


Prey Upon My Chains

by Minty_Pixie



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrids, M/M, Romance, Slow Build, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 23:59:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 149,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18788905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minty_Pixie/pseuds/Minty_Pixie
Summary: Not all chains are made of iron.Prisoner under the weight of a crown he never wanted, Jongin has known that for his entire life.Two worlds collide when he receives a wild hybrid as a present for his nineteenth birthday.Tasked to tame him, Jongin soon realizes that freedom may not be the illusion he always craved for.And that the key to his cage might be living within a pair of iridescent eyes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!  
> First things first: thank you for contemplating reading this!  
> Now, considering the length of this story, I think you’ll understand if I say I didn’t have much time to proofread it thoroughly. It’s already a miracle that I finished it (thank you to the mods who gave me some extra time for that!).  
> It might still be typo-land in there, but I hope you can still enjoy it.
> 
> Little warning: If you’re looking for flawless characters (especially the main one), perhaps you shouldn’t read this story. It might give you an aneurysm.
> 
>  **Bigger warning:** Beware that this fic contains the kind of sensitive (and possibly triggering) content that you could expect from a story set around the 17th century. The list would be too long if I had to name them all, so just keep in mind that morals and ethics were a _lot_ different, back then.  
> Hence the M rating.

Jongin used to love going to the market. At the grand old age of nine, he had long ago learned how entertaining it could be.

He was, sadly, rarely allowed to go, and it would only happen when his father was too busy to interfere.

As the Crown Prince of Yangkwang, one of the four kingdoms dividing the Korean lands, he had always been pampered and overindulged. He reveled in the attention, of course. Who in their right mind wouldn't relish being adored and cherished by an entire kingdom?

Every single servant at the palace was catering to him, although none of them could compare with his mother.

Because if there was one thing Jongin loved more than markets, it was his mom.

Lady Somin was King Youngho’s fifth wife. Born in a noble family, the Monarch had chosen her out of her four sisters when she was only seventeen, and she had had to abandon her life behind to move into the palace. Twelve years and a son later, Jongin was almost sure she was still his father’s favorite, despite the two other women he had married after her.

She was surely Jongin’s favorite person in the entire world. The prettiest, undoubtedly, and she had the most beautiful laughter he had ever heard. She smelt good, as well; Jongin loved when she would snuggle him in her arms and slowly run her delicate hand through his hair as she sang him to sleep.

His mom was also the only one brave enough to oppose his father when the man was too hard with him.

She was no queen, of course; none of the King’s many wives was. Jongin had soon learned that, unlike in neighboring kingdoms, women were not allowed to hold any power in Yangkwang. They were too weak and foolish, according to his father, and giving authority to sentimental dreamers would only cause the downfall of their kingdom.

Jongin was content with that if it meant he could have his mom’s undivided attention.

He had been thrilled, that morning, when she entered his room with a blinding smile, urging him to get dressed. He knew what day it was. Cheokgil’s market was held every Sunday in the nearby eponym town. It was the biggest of the entire kingdom, and they had items from overseas countries that couldn’t be found anywhere else.

Jongin loved it, and walking in the central alleys, surrounded by the myriad of colorful stalls, he felt happy. His hands were already sticky, covered in juice from the fruits some merchants had offered him earlier, eager to please their Crown Prince. The food had, of course, been checked by the taster as well as the two guards following him and his mom before Jongin could touch it, but he had been soon allowed to let the exotic grapes explode in his mouth as he gleefully chewed on them, his eyes roaming around.

Louder shouts and laughter were soon heard as they progressed further. He knew very well what was at the very end of that specific alley, despite never having been allowed to go this far. He was six years old when he had wandered away from his mom and their escort, trying to get to the merchant he knew sold wooden toys.

Three years later, he could still remember the stage, right in the center of the place. With heavy chains linking their collar to the cuffs around their wrists and ankles, five people were on display for everyone to see. The man beside them, tall, bald and very scary-looking in the eyes of a young child, was shouting for the small crowd gathered around: Prices, following a list of skills, for each of the five pitiful figures standing by him.

The hybrid-slave market in Cheokgil was quite famous in Yangkwang, as he learned later in life.

Of course, it wasn't the first time he was seeing people looking just like the ones being sold that day; many of the domestics at the palace had similar attributes. But until then, he had never wondered where exactly they were coming from. Thankfully, the guards had found him right as the scary man was about to undress the smaller girl of the lot. Jongin had never seen his mom as angry as she was when she scolded him, that day.

He never tried to go back, but he had, soon after, started asking if he could have one of them for himself. Now that he had seen how easy it was for the common folk to buy a hybrid, surely if the Crown Prince wanted one, the scary man would be more than willing to oblige.

All the supplications and crocodile tears had, however, not convinced his mom. Not that it had ever deterred him from keeping on trying.

He was nine years old, now. He was old enough to be responsible for a hybrid. Which is why he had stopped walking, that day, as they passed by a stall covered in foreign books. The boring items held very little interest in his eyes, especially considering his attention had been caught by something far more exotic.

“I want it!” he had exclaimed excitedly.

His mom had halted her steps, before following the direction his index finger was pointed toward. Instantly, a frown had made its way on her face.

“Jongin!” she scolded, grabbing his wrist to lower his arm.

“I’m always bored at the palace! I want it so that it can play with me!”

“ _Him_ , Jongin. He is a person, not an _it_.”

“Fine! I want _him_ ,” he repeated, emphasizing the pronoun.

Upon looking back to his right, he noticed the boy was staring at him, surprised. With the distinctive shape of his short antlers, Jongin was almost sure he shared traits with the Milu Deer, a species that, as far as he knew, was originally from China. He must've been barely older than Jongin, and with his big round eyes wide open, and copper hair matching his fluffy tail and ears, he seemed harmless. Maybe a little scared, as well. He must have not known who Jongin was, or he would've been honored.

He was perfect, however. And bonus point: he looked cleaner than most hybrids Jongin was used to see. That _had_ to count for something, right?

“Quit acting like a spoiled child, would you? I did not raise you to be so selfish.”

“But I’m a prince!” he had protested, stomping his foot on the ground.

“And your princely behind will go straight to bed without having dinner if you don’t stop misbehaving,” she replied in a firm tone.

Pouting, Jongin had glared at the ground, not foolish enough to let her see the invisible daggers coming out of his eyes.

It was unfair. He was a grown up. And he was the Crown Prince. What use was there in wearing that stupid thing on his head, if he couldn't even get what he wanted?

“You spend too much time with your father,” his mom had then said with a sigh, before urging him to keep walking.

In her mouth, it didn’t sound like a nice thing.

Jongin had gritted his teeth, trying his best not to talk back.

His father was a respected king. He was also strong, and Jongin aspired at becoming just like him. In fact, if he grew up to be half the man his father was, Jongin would be proud.

“He would’ve let me have it,” he had mumbled, kicking a pebble with the tip of his boot.

“Don’t you dare ask him, young man.”

Needless to say, Jongin had spent the rest of the morning with a scowl carved on his brows, his previous excitement entirely ruined. Not even the wooden toys had been able to cheer him up.

When they returned to the palace a few hours later, he had almost run to his father’s study, but a warning look from his mother had quickly deterred him. They were supposed to have _kkultarae_ as a dessert, that night. It was his favorite; he didn’t want to risk missing that.

 

Jongin used to love the rain. On the list of things he loved the most, he would've ranked it between the market and his mom. He also loved the color orange, but he was still debating if he should place it higher or lower than honey chrysanthemum tea.

The rain was definitely in the top three, though. He loved the earthy smell entering through the open windows as he watched the downpour soak the ground. It was peaceful to just listen to the delicate pitter-pat and the thunder roaring in the distance as lightning illuminated the thick clouds. He would bundle himself in a fluffy fur blanket, and stare at the crying skies.

He used to love the rain. At least until he had to watch his mom’s coffin being lowered into the drenched earth, raindrops bouncing on the crocuses placed on top of the dark wood.

She had been cold and pale when his father forced him to kiss her cheeks, earlier. Jongin had nearly thrown up, and the King’s hands anchored on his shoulders were the only reason he hadn’t run away.

He was twelve when his mom passed away.

That day, Jongin decided he didn't like rain anymore.

Which is why, when he wakes up on the morning of his nineteenth birthday and hears the downpour hitting the rooftop, he instantly sees it as a bad omen.

The headache and nausea surely don't help, courtesy of Taeil and Sehun who thought sneaking _Cheongju_ and _Andong Soju_ from the kitchen the night before would be a brilliant idea for an early celebration.

“They bought so much for the banquet in Your Highness’ honor,” Taeil had said. “They won’t notice a few missing bottles.”

He was probably right. However, Jongin does miss the time where he wasn't in pain.

His stomach is upset, so he rolls on his back and gently rubs his abdomen as he scrapes his tongue against the roof of his mouth to get rid of the pasty aftertaste of the alcohol. He knew it was a bad idea the minute he started feeling dizzy, the previous night. Now he is paying the price of his friends’ recklessness.

When he finally stops feeling like he might vomit at any moment, he stops ignoring the voice coming from the other side of his bedroom door and calls the servants in. Instantly, the two small panels slide open, and his personal eunuch and maids enter, steps turning careful when they notice his sour mood. As one of the hybrid girls walks to the bathroom to get his bath ready, Jongin’s eyes drift toward the ceiling, where he can hear raindrops hitting the roof at an even faster pace. Clearly, his plan on going for a ride after breakfast will have to be postponed. With a grimace, he sits and gets up from the thin futon. He pays no mind to the eunuch placing his dragon robe on the small table, nor to the hybrid maids tidying up the bed, and silently waits, flipping through some pages of the book he is supposed to finish reading for his next lesson.

“Your bath is ready, Your Highness,” he hears from behind him.

The voice is unstable, and he makes sure she sees the side of his face when he smirks.

“Then why are you still here?”

From the corner of his eyes, he sees the girl bow a few times as she walks backward to the doors, before she rushes out, her short tail stuck between her thighs.

With a snort loud enough for her to hear, he watches all the others exit the room after her, until the doors quietly shut. Then, sighing and shaking his head, he marches toward his bathroom, undressing and throwing his night clothes on the ground as he walks. She will return to clean later, anyway, after the court ladies are done dressing him. Maybe he will even try to linger around, just to see her fumble under his stare.

Jongin is an arrogant cad. Or so he heard the maids say when they weren't aware he was listening.

“ _He’s so rude and conceited!”_ one said about a year ago. “ _Even with his disability, His Highness Prince Jongdae would make a far better king.”_

A few others had found useful to add various similar comments, in a flourished language Jongin was always surprised to hear coming out of women’s lips.

Just out of spite, and to prove them right, he had made sure to get some of them fired the next day.

It was their fault, really. They should've known better than to talk ill about the Crown Prince within his own palace. And his father always taught him not to let anyone disrespect his royal person. Jongin has learned to take those words very seriously and to act accordingly.

 

When he steps out of his quarters after eating a small portion of his breakfast despite the protest of his stomach, he finds his older sister a few steps away, apparently heading in his direction. She's smiling way too much to fit his bitter mood, but he wishes her a good morning, nonetheless.

“What are you doing here this early?”

“I was coming to see you. I wanted to wish you a happy birthday, Your Highness” Seohyun says, bowing her head.

He hums in acknowledgment, trying to ignore the myriad of court ladies and eunuchs surrounding them and listening to their every word. He finds it ridiculous that she's forced to be so respectful toward him when they're not alone.

“Will you walk me back to my pavilion?” she then asks, likely seeing how uncomfortable he is with the domestics’ blatant eavesdropping.

“Of course.”

“I see you drank too much again,” she continues when they have begun walking, and despite speaking in a lower voice so that the people following them can't hear,  he still catches the teasing intonation just as clearly as the pitter-pat on the roof.

Jongin shrugs, before grimacing when the motion upsets his stiff neck, intensifying his headache for a few seconds. Teeth gritted and temples pounding painfully, he glares at nothing, before sighing when she only chuckles.

“You three take way too often advantage of your title to get out of scolding,” she says, sounding both amused and annoyed. “I don't think father would be pleased to find out you've been partaking in such activities with your guards.”

More carefully this time, Jongin shrugs again. He’s almost certain his father knows already. It has happened enough times for the King to have witnessed his son dragging himself around in the palace with a liquor-induced gait. And the Monarch has attended a sufficient amount of sword fight training sessions to be aware Jongin is friends with both Taeil and Sehun. Is it not the reason he assigned them as his son’s personal guards?

His father is no idiot. Putting the pieces together must've not been difficult. Plus, Jongin has nothing to do with the stolen bottles. This is all on Taeil and his ability to have his way with some of the domestics working in the kitchens. That boy would bed anyone, regardless of gender or species, as long as they have, as he would word it, ‘human attributes where it matters.’ Not that Jongin can blame him; some of those hybrid lads are rather tantalizing.

“Do you have some plans for the day?” Seohyun then asks, probably figuring out he wouldn't answer her previous statement.

He glances at her as she contemplates the downpour through an open window, and refrains from shrugging again.

“It’s raining,” he answers as if it were enough.

And it should be. She very well knows how much he despises this weather. She was there, a few steps away from him when they lowered Jongin’s mother deep in the ground.

The memory brings another thought in his mind, and although he doesn't want to talk, he guesses this should at least help spur the conversation away.

“How is your mother, Noonim?”

Seohyun glances at him, a skeptic look on her flawless face, clearly knowing what he's attempting to do. She seems to be one second away from making a comment, but then, her expression suddenly turns amiable.

Jongin knows that strained smile, and he is not surprised when he looks ahead and see the figure coming their way.

“Better. Thank you for asking,” Seohyun replies politely. “The Royal Physician assured us she would recover quickly,” she adds, just like she did when he asked the day before.

“I'm glad to hear that,” he replies in the same tone just as a young woman stops in front of them.

He watches Seohyun bow, presenting her respects to the girl. Thanks to his title, Jongin doesn't have to do the same, but he usually forces himself to at least greet his father’s consorts.

Especially Lady Soojung.

Only a few months younger than Jongin, the King’s newest wife – and hopefully the last one – can be rather prickly, and he always tries to be polite with her, despite feeling nauseous whenever he imagines her being intimate with his father.

This morning, however, it seems the wind hurling outside has swept away the small amount of willfulness left in him, and he opts for a simple nod, without even properly looking at her. The huff he hears as she walks away doesn't surprise him, but he ignores it, just as much as Seohyun’s glare. She hates when he acts like this.

They just arrived at the front door, when Jongin’s ears catch a rhythmic tapping sound through the pitter-patter. Its familiarity finishes what the rainy weather started, and with a click of his tongue, he quickly bows his head toward Seohyun and steps out. The voice of the two eunuchs rushing after him with an umbrella is echoing behind him when he passes by his brother, and the elder’s cheerful birthday wish is left without an answer as Jongin walks away.

When he deems he fled sufficiently far, he assesses his options and decides to make his way to the training grounds. Being his birthday, he is exempted of sword-wielding practice for the day, but he's curious to see how Taeil is doing despite the likely headache he must be struggling with. He can vaguely remember Sehun half-carrying him into the guards’ quarters, the night before.

The farther he walks, the louder it gets, and his steps falter when he rounds his sister’s pavilion, forgetting for a moment that he was trying to stay as close to the walls so that the roof edges would protect him from the rain.

The inner court is buzzing like a wasp nest. Just like the one he stupidly shot at with his bow when he was thirteen. He had been the target, back then, and had been stung many times by the swarm of provoked bugs. And although tonight, ‘guest of honor’ will be a more appropriate way to define him, and he'll get presents handed to him instead of stingers piercing his skin, he can still already feel the same urge to run away.

It is hard to recall how he used to love the attention everyone would show him; the way he bathed in it, unashamed to take advantage of it, as conceited as it might have seemed for anyone else. In spite of his mother’s frequent reminders, he had never realized what it truly implied in the long run.

Now the simple thought of it makes him sick. He despises the core of it, hates the reason he gets everyone to drop to their knees in the blink of an eye if he so much as hints at them to do so.

It is, however, not something he can run away from, and he has long ago learned to conceal his feelings and play the part he is destined to, for the sake of his mother’s memory. Although he hadn't been able to be the good son she deserved when she was still alive, the least he can now do is to honor her wish.

When the nausea that has nothing to do with his hangover starts being too much, Jongin detaches his eyes from the busy court. His personal eunuch has caught up to him and is silently standing right behind him, holding the gigantic umbrella above the Crown Prince only. After a glance back, the sight of the soaked middle-age man makes him huff, and he resumes his trip toward the training grounds without a word, walking just a tad too quickly for the poor eunuch to follow and shield him properly.

If he's drenched when he steps in the opencast area, it is nothing compared to all the soldiers gathered there. They all look like they went for a swim in the palace’s artificial pond before coming here, and Jongin can't help but grimace. The whirling northern wind is already making him shiver, although he hasn't been outside for long; he can't imagine how cold they must all be.

It only takes a few seconds for them to notice him and hurriedly bow as he walks farther in. He recognizes Sehun in the middle of the square sparring area, a sword in hand and dark hair stuck on his dripping face; probably a mix of rain and sweat, considering the way he and his opponent are panting as they straighten up.

Spotting Taeil in the far back corner, he gestures at everyone to keep going, before making his way toward his friend.

“What is Your Highness doing here?” Taeil asks, raising a brow. “Weren’t you planning to go for a ride?”

“The entire East Sea is falling from the skies,” Jongin says in an even tone, keeping his eyes on the fight in front of them. “I do _not_ wish to drown.”

Taeil chuckles just as Sehun dodges his adversary’s sword by rolling in the mud.

“Has my father arrived?”

“Not yet, Your Highness. He shouldn’t be long, though. He wouldn't miss tonight’s celebrations.”

With a hum, Jongin watches Sehun stumbles back, almost getting hit by the blade swung at him before his own sword blocks it.

Of course, the King wouldn't miss the banquet. Everyone who is someone will be there to honor the Crown Prince. So many people that the Banquet Hall has quickly been discarded in favor of the inner court to hold the even. Jongin is his father’s pride, and even if he had passed away, the Monarch would likely return from the land of the deads to make certain the whole kingdom duly celebrates his son.

He had been surprised to hear the King announce he would leave, a month before, for one of his diplomatic visits to the northern villages. Jongin never went there himself, but he knows those villages dot the landscape, becoming fewer as the mountains get steeper and rugged. His father travels through many of them, at least twice a year, but generally not in winter. Further up, pass the border, spreads the Wild North, a kingdomless land covered by snow almost all year round, where live hybrid tribes and human nomads. Jongin has no idea how those people can survive in the unrelenting weather; he already feels terrible for his father knowing he had to come close to the border before the coldest season had even begun.

“I saw the shamans they hired to dance at the banquet,” Taeil says, pulling him out of his train of thoughts. “They arrived early morning.”

Jongin hums, not really caring about what has been planned for the event, preferring to focus on how Sehun’s opponent forces his friend to scurry backward, almost tripping.

“They looked quite...appetizing.”

That, on the other hand, elicits a chuckle from the Crown Prince.

“Everyone does, to you,” he points out, earning a half-offended, half-amused look from Taeil.

“Not _everyone_.”

With a skeptic glance, Jongin rolls his eyes before returning his attention to the center of the sparring area, just in time to see Sehun trip his opponent and swing his sword once he's on the ground, stopping it right against the side of the boy’s neck. His smile is proud as he takes a step back a few seconds later, reaching out to help his adversary up when the instructor shouts they're done.

“Who wants to go next?” the old man asks, eyeing the lined up guards.

When they all look at each other and no one speaks, Jongin scoffs, before turning to his left.

“Bring me my sword,” he orders to one of the younger boys standing near.

He doesn't recognize his face, but he must be seventeen at most, likely one of the newest recruits still in training. After a bow, the boy darts toward the weapon rack, just as Jongin feels Taeil’s gaze on him.

“What is it?” he asks when he notices his raised brow.

“Are you planning on training?”

“I have nothing better to do,” Jongin answers with a shrug, nodding to the instructor when he catches the man’s eyes.

“Your Highness, you are not properly dressed,” his personal eunuch intervenes in a concerned tone.

“The maids aren’t going to be happy if you ruin another _gonryongpo_ ,” Taeil adds with a smirk.

“When are they happy with me, anyway?”

“...Fair enough,” his friend says as Jongin gestures at his eunuch to help him out of his jade belt. “Who are you going to terrorize and humiliate today?”

Taking a step forward, he grabs the sword handed to him, before looking back at Taeil, a grin on his lips and both brows lifted.

“No, thank you,” Taeil laughs, shaking his head.

“Are you _scared_?” Jongin taunts him, sliding his thumb along his raindrop-speckled blade.

With a smirk and a squint of his eyes, Taeil instantly grabs his own sword and steps toward him.

“I’ll show you scared, _Your Highness_ ,” he replies, emphasizing his title and bending his knees, one foot behind, in a mocking curtsy.

In response, Jongin chortles and gives him a friendly clap on the shoulder.

“Try not to cry afterward.”

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

He does return to his room with a mud-covered dragon robe, earning a tired sigh from his personal eunuch when he discards it on the floor and waits for the court ladies to help him change. He mostly ignores them, however, still satisfied with his fight against Taeil enough not to feel like asserting any sort of stupid authority. His friend was sulking when Jongin left, never one to like being defeated so quickly. He should know better, though. Jongin has been trained since he was young, and by the best swordsmen existing in Yangkwang, the King made sure of that. Yet, Taeil always seems surprised when the Crown Prince overpowers him, and even though Jongin knows the young man is mostly worried to be removed from his role as his personal guard if he's not good enough, the reaction still somewhat hurts his ego. He is the future King; he _has to_ be exceptional. Or at best, exceptionally skilled.

He dismisses all his servant and settles in his chambers to read, only letting the court ladies interrupt him when they bring his midday meal. Just like in the morning, he barely touches the many dishes, his stomach still feeling upset, and knowing the banquet will be substantial enough to satiate him for days.

A few hours later, he gets informed his father has returned, so he carefully stows his book and gets on his feet, his servants soon falling in line behind him as he makes his way over to the King’s living quarters.

Seohyun is exiting the room when he arrives, and he easily returns the little smile she offers him before gesturing at his father’s personal guard to announce his presence. Once he's invited in, he enters the room and goes to kneel in front of the Monarch, dutifully paying his respects.

“I brought you a present from my travels,” his father tells him in a satisfied voice a bit later,  arousing his curiosity. “I have no doubt that you will be delighted with it.”

“Really? What is it?”

The King has never been miserly when it came to giving Jongin what he wants, and even more, but his son has rarely him look so pleased, which says a lot considering how he enjoys boasting whenever he does gift him something.

“I would rather leave the surprise for tonight,” his father tells him mysteriously, seeming content when Jongin nods.

If his father is so convinced he'll like his present, Jongin trusts him. After all, he has always given his son the very best.

 

The torrential downpour has eased down to a light drizzle when Jongin takes place at his banquet table in the inner court. The small drops catch the faint moonlight before quietly landing on the stone ground as he lets his eyes roam over the people gathered below. They're all standing, waiting for the King to nod so that the festivities can begin. It doesn't take long before the Monarch does so, and Jongin glances to his left, toward the tables where his siblings are seated. He catches his niece’s eyes and smiles back at her when she offers him a grin missing a few teeth.

The food is exquisite, as expected for such a lavish celebration, with dishes after dishes prepared with the most refined ingredients, and floods of the sweetest alcohols. By the time the dancers’ performance starts, Jongin is appropriately inebriated, his full stomach pressing pleasantly low in his abdomen. He slightly leans back in his chair and watches the shamans gracefully move, some swaying long swords gleaming under the moon, others wielding colorful fans flapping in the chilly air. They seem to float as they twirl along with the music, looking like weightless willow tree leaves undulating in the summer breeze. Jongin is enthralled from the beginning to the end, his awed eyes still riveted on the eleven women when they converge toward the soloist and finally stop moving. He only realizes the dance is over when the Minister of Rites loudly announces the Crown Prince will now receive his presents, and Jongin has to adjust his stance to avoid looking like he is slouching.

For the next hour, a new kind of dance takes place. One after the other, people come to stand in front of his table, gesturing at their servant to hand him lacquered wood boxes enclosing precious items that seem to surpass each other in beauty. Rare books, musical instruments, tapestries depicting intricate scenes and celadon porcelain sculptures; it all looks like a competition to whom Jongin will be the most enchanted by. The bow and set of arrows Seohyun places in front of him leave him speechless for a few seconds before he thanks her respectfully, hoping she sees is his eyes how appreciative he is. When Jongdae stumbles in front of him, however, Jongin’s jaw tenses, and he stays silent when he scrutinizes the assortment of throwing knives laying on the navy velvet inside the bow. They’re beautiful, stunningly forged and polished thoroughly, enough for him to see his reflection in the metal blade when he takes one between his fingers. No matter how hard he tries to, he can't find anything to criticize, so he replaces it next to the others, and gestures at his personal eunuch to remove it from the table. Jongdae’s own servant takes this as a cue to lead the Prince back to his table, and Jongin does his best to ignore the way his brother’s smile slightly falls at his absence of acknowledgment.

The Chinese envoy then presents him with a breathtaking _jian_ , a double-edged straight sword the Emperor of China has had made especially for him, as the man declares with a bow. Jongin weighs it in his hand, testing its balance before nodding with a satisfied smile and a few thankful words for the envoy to relay to his Sovereign. When he opens the next box, he finds a royal seal. Whereas his current one is sculpted in jade, this one is undoubtedly made out of gold, cast in the shape of a turtle, with a red silk tassel attached to it. He glances at the Minister of Rites standing in front of him, before turning his head to look at his father. The King should be the one offering him this kind of present, so he can't help but be a little confused. But his father only gives him a silent nod, before mouthing a measured ‘ _later_ ,’ a reassuring expression on his face, so Jongin faces Minister Choi and formally thanks the old man.

It lasts a little while longer until finally, the celebration ends, and everyone disperses. When he looks back, Jongin sees his father walk away, in the middle of a conversation with the Chinese envoy. He only takes notice of his frown when a familiar voice points it out.

“Why is Your Highness looking so bothered? Did you not like all your presents?”

Turning on his heels, he sees Taeil taking a step in his direction, an irritating smirk adorning his flawless face.

“Oh, I’m _delighted_ ,” he says, faking enthusiasm. “More useless objects bound to suffocate under layers of dust in the corner of an already full and dark room. What is not to like?”

“I believe you'll have more shelves to expose all this,” Taeil replies with a knowing look, just as annoying as his lopsided smile.

“What do you mean?”

“If you will follow me,” the guard answers. “I was appointed by His Majesty to lead you to your first present.”

“First?”

“He has prepared two. The second will come once Your Highness is settled in the first one.”

Jongin blinks at him, utterly lost as his guard bows slightly.

“Why are you talking so cryptically?”

“This way, Your Highness,” Taeil only replies, gesturing at the Crown Prince to take a path on his left.

The _samhaeju_ still running in his veins prevents him from further questioning his friend, and with a sigh, he eventually complies.

Taeil guides him throughout the palace grounds for what feels like hours until he stops in front of a large building Jongin doesn't remember ever seeing. He is not certain he even ventured in this part of the estate before.

When he turns inquiring eyes toward Taeil, his friend extends his arm to invite him to climb the few stairs up. The double doors aren’t locked when he pulls on their iron handles, and his brows furrow when he looks inside.

“His Majesty thought it was time for you to have your own pavilion,” Taeil declares when he sees Jongin has halted his steps. “For it will be here you'll now reside, even after getting married.”

_That_ effectively extracts a reaction out of him, and he chokes on air, nape snapping as he abruptly turns his head to look at his guard.

“I beg your pardon?!”

For a few seconds, he hopes Taeil will laugh and affirm it was a joke

He just freshly turned _nineteen_. His facial hair is still growing in uneven and sparse patches.  How could he get married? He has only bedded a handful of people, so how could he become responsible for another human being, and be accountable for their every action and decision?

He knows Yangkwang’s people demand a crown prince be wedded before he becomes king. Even though the woman remains a consort and never access the rank of a queen, it is still considered as a tradition. In the Confucian philosophy, the primary purpose of marriage is the cultivation of virtue, and as fathers of their nation, being married confers to kings the ability to develop patience, love, and in doing so, virtue, thus reassuring the citizens they are apt to rule.

However, Jongin is not sure why having a spouse would help in any way to reign over a kingdom. It should be nothing but a burden to be bonded to a creature as frivolous as women are. But there must be a reason explaining why his father, and his grandfather before him, have taken so many wives, so Jongin never questioned the tradition. He might start to, though, if someone were to tell him he has to take a wife.

Taeil seems oblivious to the Crown Prince’s train of thoughts and nonchalantly nods.

“There is also a room for your future heir,” he adds, making Jongin’s brain shut down for a second.

He stays rooted where he is as Taeil walks further in.

“The building south is your lecture hall, the one next to it is your new private library,” the young guard explains, still unaware of Jongin’s distress. “All your books have already been moved over there. West of the library is your private study, and east of your quarters is the building for your private guards. This is where I’ll be residing from now-... Is Your Highness feeling all right?”

“Am I… No!” Jongin exclaims, letting go of his composed royal demeanor. “Is this my father’s present?!” he gasps, looking back at his friend. “The second one? Are you about to bring my future _wife_ here, next?”

Deep down, he knows very well he's overreacting, but his thoughts are jumbled, spiraling in his mind, connecting to each other and unfolding a frightening path.

The King unexpectedly left the palace a month ago and told him today that he returned with a present.

The Chinese Emperor sent an envoy when he had never done so in the past.

What if his father had traveled through the Wild North, up to China, and brought him back a _princess_ to wed?

It’s the sound of Taeil’s barely concealed snort that breaks the spell and rips him out of his chaotic reasoning.

“What a horrifying present this would be,” the guard mirthfully replies, before he shakes his head. “His Majesty would never do this to you. Trust me, what he brought you back is far better than a woman to marry.”

Here he is again with the mysterious tone. It only confuses Jongin more and more, despite the relief flooding his body. The Crown Prince, however, doesn't get the chance to question his friend before the man speaks again.

“You can get familiar with your new living space. I’ll be back soon with your gift.”

A bow later, Taeil turns on his heels and exits the pavilion, leaving Jongin in the candle-lit room. The inside is not much different from the chambers he occupied in the King’s quarters, just larger.

Jongin gives himself a small tour, starting with the main room. Everything looks brand new, from the sitting mat to the tapestry on the wall. The floor-table, shelves, and cabinets seem to be made out of lacquered mahogany, the varnish highlighting the mother-of-pearl inlaid in the dark wood.

A set of sliding doors leads him into a long hallway, with even more doors. A restroom, with an enormous wooden tub, a bedroom, where he spots a few of his belongings in the obscurity, as well as two similar ones. For his wife and heir, he guesses, swiftly sliding the doors shut to avoid panicking once again.

Jongin wills himself to breathe slowly, listening to the pitter-pat on the roof. The rain started pouring harder again, it seems, its fast pace matching the rapid heartbeat inside his chest. He feels uneasy as he closes his eyes, vaguely wondering what is taking Taeil so long.

As soon as the thought crosses his mind, the sound of porcelain crashing on the ground startles him, and he swivels around. With measured steps, he walks back toward the main room, where hushed words and grunting noises are coming from.

The first thing he notices as he enters is the vase on the floor. Or at least, what is left of it. By the blue hand-painted motifs on the white shards, he can tell it was expensive, likely a gift from a foreign kingdom. But before he can figure out which monarch he will have to apologize to, Taeil comes into view, drenched uniform and disheveled hair dripping on his face.

“Sorry for that,” he says between heavy breaths as if he had been wrestling just before Jongin came in.

“What happened?” the Crown Prince asks, taking one more step.

“Your present is here,” Taeil replies with a strained smile as Jongin’s eyes go back and forth between him and the broken ceramic.

He is about to ask when some more grunts echoes from near the front doors. Frowning, he tries to peek around his friend, before walking around him when he only sees the back of two more soldiers seemingly struggling with something.

A growl and a flash of silver.

A yelp followed by a matte thud.

And pain mixing with adrenaline.

Jongin only realizes he's the one who squealed when he notices he fell backward and landed on the hard wooden floor. But the ache in his wrists is curtailed by the sudden panic rushing in his veins as he stares at what is in front of him.

Taeil rushes by his side, kneeling and asking if he's hurt in an urgent tone, but Jongin barely registers him. A new growl startles him, and he shuffles away a little more, staring with wide opened eyes.

Arms held by the two soldiers, the hybrid is glowering at him with an intensity Jongin has rarely witnessed; even less directed at him.

All he sees is silver. From the long locks of hair against which two short ears are flattened back, to the long bushy tail bristling in evident anger behind him. Even is skin is glistening, so pale that the raindrops lying on its surface make it glow like the precious metal in the candlelight.

His clothes are soaked, enough to stick to his body and reveal his muscular frame. He is no domesticated hybrid, that much is clear, and Jongin can feel the thin hair on his nape rising as he looks up to the beast’s face. There are two jagged scars on its right side, one stretching in a slight curve from his temple to his slightly lifted upper lip revealing teeth ready to snap, and the second cutting across the cheekbone, straight to the bridge of his nose. A third one runs on the same side of his neck, peeking above the leather collar linked with heavy chains to the cuffs around his wrists and ankles. More silver.

As Jongin anxiously scans the longest scar on the hybrid’s face, watching the way it cuts through the end of a thick brow, he inadvertently catches the creature’s ominous gaze. His stomach jolts as he lets out a shaky breath, feeling a drop of cold sweat trickling down his spine when the creature hisses, tail snapping through the air.

Rage is seething within the heavily black-rimmed eyes, pupils constricted despite the dim light in the room. Jongin feels both scrutinized and gauged, as if the hybrid were trying to determine the quickest and most efficient way to rip his throat open. The guards restraining him must notice too, because then, Jongin sees one of them tighten his grip, eyes squinted as he leans slightly toward the beast’s ear.

“I would stay put if I were you,” the man says in a low voice. “Unless you want another taste of what the Royal Physician gave you earlier.”

At those words, the second soldier reaches toward a small leather pouch attached to his uniform belt. He doesn't take anything out of it, but the motion is sufficient for the creature to understand he's in possession of whatever his comrade was talking about.

The change is subtle, almost imperceptible, but Jongin catches the way the hybrid’s whole body tenses for a second before his shoulders slightly fall as he looks down. His jaw is still clenching, but Jongin allows himself to relax, just a little.

It’s easier, now that the penetrating gaze is not focused on him anymore.

He glances at Taeil, still on his knees by his side, and watches his friend force a small smile.

“Happy birthday?”

“You can’t be serious…”

“His Majesty captured him during his visit to the northern frontier,” Taeil explains, eyeing the hybrid before looking back at Jongin. “He went on a hunt with some villagers and found him. He thought it would be a perfect present for you.”

A glimpse toward said present shows Jongin he is not exactly enjoying being considered as such, and the Crown Prince has to will himself not to move away when he crosses those grim eyes yet again, despite feeling goosebumps covering his skin.

“He belonged to a tribe of nomadic hunters living in the Wild North,” Taeil supplements.

Jongin frowns at the use of the past tense but chooses to ignore it in order to get more information to feed his concerned mind.

“But what is he?” he inquires before clearing his throat when his voice wavers.

“A snow leopard,” his friend replies. “A purebred, may I add. The Royal Physician confirmed it.”

“A _carnivore_?!”

His head snaps back in front of him when a low, menacing growl reaches his ears. Instinctively, his body jerks back when he once again crosses the threatening glare directed at him. It barely lasts a second, but Jongin catches the glint of satisfaction his reaction brings in the hybrid’s eyes.

Refusing to let him think he's afraid, Jongin quickly stands, his lips pursed as he dusts his black gonryongpo with feigned nonchalance.

In his peripheral vision, he sees Taeil jut his chin toward the soldiers, who in turn force the hybrid on his knees, the rattling of the heavy chains still echoing in the silence as they exit the room. Jongin internally winces, knowing from the loud thud it must've hurt when his bones collided with the hard wooden floor. The hybrid’s face remains still, however, head slanted down, and Jongin vaguely wonders if his kind feels pain like humans do.

Now that the first wave of shock has passed, and with the hybrid not glowering at him anymore, Jongin gets the chance to study him a bit further. He can see black lines peeking up between the collar and the top of the grey tunic he's wearing, and when he glances down, he notices more ink hidden under the sleeves going up his wrists. They create a striking contrast with his ivory skin, despite being obscured by his clothes.

The hybrid must've felt Jongin gaze on him because, in an instant, his head snaps back up. His irises are pale, piercing, viciousness flaring and consuming them like a forest wildfire. Jongin frowns when the swift motion of his head makes the silver hair swing back, revealing off-white fragments going through several parts of his left human ear. It only takes a second for him to realize one of them is shaped like a small bone, and he has to do his best not to let his face show his incredulity.

Taeil did mention he belonged to a tribe of hunters; maybe he should've asked if humans were among their preys.

“So...what am I supposed to do with him?” Jongin asks after a short moment. “Treat him as a pet, or…”

He chooses to ignore the glare burning the side of his face as he looks at Taeil, somewhat confused.

“His Majesty mentioned him serving you if you need him to,” his friend replies, looking uncertain himself. “As well as protecting you.”

“ _You_ are protecting me.”

“Of course I am, Your Highness. But I guess it is...additional security?”

Jongin wants to argue that he already has five men established as his personal guards, more than enough to ensure his safety, but he doesn't want to seem ungrateful when his father went through the trouble of personally getting him the hybrid. He is, however, unsure as to how the creature is supposed to protect him, considering he looks more inclined to be the one attacking him at this moment.

Brows slightly furrowed, he looks back at the still glaring beast. His unnatural stillness is making Jongin uncomfortable, contrasting so much with the fire burning in his silver eyes. Even his chest is barely moving with his breaths, like a predator waiting for the right moment to pounce.

Subtly clearing his throat, Jongin straightens his back and shoulders, trying to look taller and broader. His stature is by no mean scrawny, but he remembers reading somewhere that looking more imposing could help make an animal submit.

The unwavering glare makes him doubt that fact for a second, but he doesn’t give up.

“What is your name?” Jongin asks, willing his voice to sound confident as he addressed the hybrid for the first time.

Without even a blink, the beast keeps their eyes locked, but lets silence answer for him.

“How am I supposed to call you if I don't know your name?” he insists, more as an affirmation than a real question.

When no reply is given, he glances at Taeil with a troubled frown.

“Does he even speak our language?”

The lack of assurance on his friend’s face makes Jongin’s mind falter. He did see the hybrid’s body respond to the soldiers’ threat earlier. Or so he assumed.

Could it be that he simply tensed because the second guard could've been reaching out for a weapon?

He was restrained, not only by chains but also by two pairs of strong arms; he likely knew he was in a vulnerable position, unable to properly defend himself.

A sense of dread begins prickling along his nape when Taeil offers him a shrug.

“I’m not certain. But he sure knows how to growl,” the guard affirms, sounding a bit too unconcerned for Jongin’s taste.

“What did the Royal Physician give him?”

During a short second, the nonchalance in Taeil’s expression shifts, and the Crown Prince watches with astonishment as uneasiness paints his traits. It is, however, gone in a blink of an eye, before he even has the chance to wonder about it.

“He had to be sedated, at one point,” Taeil replies in an even tone. “He is a feisty one. He wouldn’t keep still when they cleaned him.”

“Cleaned?”

“He lived in the wild, Your Highness,” the guard says. “Who knows if he ever took a bath in his life. But His Majesty wanted him to look presentable for you.”

The hybrid’s eyes are burning a hole in the floor when Jongin looks back at him, brows furrowed. His silver hair is still dripping on the soaked tunic he wears, a pool slowly expanding around his knees. Jongin supposes he must've looked presentable before they dragged him through the downpour still raging outside, but he was most likely a disgusting, filthy mess when his father brought him back. Jongin would've not wanted to get anywhere near him; no one would have let him, regardless.

“He didn't enjoy getting his hair brushed and trimmed either,” Taeil adds, sounding almost amused, now.

Failing to see the humorous side of the situation, Jongin eyes the hybrid, whose hair covers his down-tilted face in long grey strands, waving ever so slightly as it dries.

The silence stretches as he observes the way his fists are clenching against each other on his lap, the cuffs around his wrist constricting them together. He doesn't seem to be pulling at them, but judging by the angry red and raw-looking skin peeking from underneath the metal, he must've tried to yank his arms apart to try to free himself, earlier.

“Your Highness should get some rest,” Taeil eventually says, tearing Jongin away from his thoughts. “You must be up at sunrise for your lessons.”

It’s only when the guard takes a step toward the door that his words register in Jongin’s mind, and in a panicked reflex, his hand reaches out and grabs Taeil’s elbow.

“Don’t leave me alone with him!” he whisper-screams, eyes widening.

Taeil has the audacity to _chuckle_ , most likely at both the meaning of his interjection and the low volume he spoke in. Jongin is not sure himself why he hissed, considering the hybrid is only a couple of meters away and doesn't seem to understand their language, but before he can wonder any further, Taeil is patting his hand, subtly pressing him to let go.

“You’ll be fine,” he says, definitely entertained by the almighty Crown Prince looking so frightened.

“Not if he _eats_ me!” Jongin replies in a distressed rush.

This time, his voice is much louder, going a notch too high as it cracks on the last word, and he would've been embarrassed by, had a growl not made the air vibrate right after. Jongin cowers, stumbling back as he barely contains the yelp bubbling in his throat. If hostility were a sound, that would be it; it seemed to be coming from deep within the hybrid’s chest, and when he looks back at him, he finds those incandescent eyes blazing in his direction once more.

“I'm almost certain his tribe doesn’t eat humans.”

“Almost?”

“Don’t be too worried,” Taeil says in a reassuring tone.

Jongin finds very little comfort in these words and is quick to retake hold of his forearm when the guard hints at another step.

“Wait, where is he supposed to reside?” he inquires, a sudden feeling of foreboding twisting his guts.

The look Taeil sends him resembles the kind that one would aim at a whiny, capricious child: somewhat annoyed, yet lenient, and it prompts Jongin to retract his hand right away, refusing to be pitied.

“His Majesty didn’t specify,” the guard says. “But he did mention him having to stay close to you at all times. So I would assume it means living in your pavilion.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Soldiers will be posted all around. If anything happens, Your Highness just needs to call.”

“I won't be able to if he rips my throat with his claws!” Jongin retorts, harsher than he intended, earning yet another growl.

He can see Taeil refrain himself from rolling his eyes, most definitely out of respect.

“His nails have been cut blunt enough for them to be useless,” the guard explains as if he were trying to reason a toddler throwing a tantrum. “He will remain chained, nonetheless. He won’t be able to move much, even less to escape, but we’ll hear him if he attempts to.”

Jongin is no coward. He prides himself in being rather brave when the situation requires it. But there is something in those pale eyes. Something he cannot name, yet makes his throat constrict and his guts churn. Not evil, but vicious enough to make him shiver as he crosses the hybrid’s gaze once more.

He knows he won't get a glimpse of sleep, tonight. How could he, knowing what will be looming in the darkness beyond his door?

When Taeil speaks again, his voice has lost its disparaging tone.

“He won’t hurt you,” he affirms, sounding now strangely confident. “I was told he has been... _informed_ of what would happen, should he cause you any harm. Whether or not he can speak our language, I was assured he understood very well.”

The cryptic phrasing is odd, and it makes Jongin wonder what exactly the hybrid has gone through since he was brought to the palace. He, however, doesn't get the chance to question his friend any more, when a hand lands on his shoulder.

“Your Highness doesn’t have to worry.”

“Easy for you to say,” Jongin mumbles in return, before releasing a deep sigh. “Fine. But if they find me dead in the morning, you will be responsible.”

“Of course,” Taeil nods amusedly. “I vow to be appropriately devastated.”

The scoff Jongin lets out is a bit shaky, but he tries to fight the urge of holding Taeil back when he makes his way out after bowing.

The double-door closes, cutting the sound of the downpour still raging outside. It suddenly feels like the air has grown even heavier in the bone-chilling silence. Jongin breathes in slowly, gathering all his willpower as he exhales, once, twice, before he hesitantly looks at the hybrid.

The venom in his narrowed eyes is still searing, nostrils flaring and tail bristling. Jongin wants nothing more than to flee somewhere else, _anywhere_ , as long as he is far away from the glistening teeth the hybrid’s upper lip reveals again as he hisses. He knows, however, that showing weakness is not an option. He has to assert dominance right from the start; this is how animals are taught to be obedient, right? He might also possibly be anxious at the thought of the hybrid following him.

So, despite the shivers raising all the hairs on his body, he clears his throat and licks his lips.

“Y-you…” he starts, nervously pointing his finger at the hybrid. “Stay…” he continues, not sure how to illustrate this. “...Here,” he says, now pointing at the ground.

Like a hawk, the hybrid’s sharp eyes follow his hand, and for a second, Jongin is scared he'll pounce and snap his teeth on his digit.

“I…” he carries on nonetheless, poking his own chest. “Go over there.”

The baleful gaze keeps following his movements as his thumb points behind him, toward the hallway doors.

“But you stay here,” he insists, this time using both hands to motion at the hybrid, then at the floor. “Do you understand?”

When all he gets is a glare, Jongin sighs, clicking his tongue in frustration.

“You stay _here_ , all right?” he asks, a little more firmly.

A little too much, apparently, because for the umpteenth time in the last hour, a growl fills the air, deep enough for Jongin to feel it reverberating within his own chest.

Panic washes over him like a cold wave, and before he knows it, he has slammed his bedroom doors shut behind him, heartbeat pounding against his ribs and throbbing in his ears.

Through his loud panting, he tries to listen for any rattling noise coming from beyond the wooden panel, only allowing himself to slightly relax when all he hears is the pitter-patter of the rain on the rooftop.

Eyes roaming his surrounding, he looks for a way to block the doors but quickly realizes the furniture is too heavy. So, he reluctantly sighs, grabbing a jade sculpture propped on a shelf, and weighing it in his hand, he gulps before nodding to himself. It’s heavy enough to do some damage on someone’s head if he swings his arms swiftly, and the pointy spikes on the dragon’s sculpted tail might be able to pierce through skin.

His heart misses a beat, however, when he suddenly remembers the porcelain shards still laying on the main room floor, ready to be grabbed and used as a lethal weapon.

Jongin glances at the doors, listening attentively.

Nothing.

With yet another sigh, he lets his arm fall by his side, fingers clenched around the sculpture. He will definitely not sleep tonight, but he makes his way toward the futon nonetheless and sits on it, facing the bedroom entrance.

How ironic, really. Jongin had begged his mother so many times, asking for a hybrid of his own, only to be turned down. He had slowly lost hope along the way, before eventually outgrowing the need to have a playmate. Then she had passed away, and Jongin had never mentioned it ever again.

But it seems his father remembered, even though Jongin had never asked him directly.

Had he not been the Crown Prince, he would've wondered if the King were trying to get rid of him. But he is, and his father has never been hard with him for no reason.

He can still recall how the man once forced him to sink a dagger in the heart of an agonizing deer after Jongin’s arrow had slightly missed it. Just like he can still feel the cold crawling under his skin, from that time he was ordered to stand in the snow for three hours, barefoot and in his night garments.

“This is what some of our people go through during the bitterest winters,” his father had said as he was bringing the thirteen-year-old back to his room. “You have to know, so that you can do everything in your power to prevent that. If you are aware of their sufferings, you will be able to provide what they need to avoid it.”

Jongin had nodded, teeth chattering behind his blueish lips.

There had always been a reason, a lesson to learn from every order. And although Jongin is not sure what owning an undomesticated, ferocious hybrid is supposed to teach him, he trusts his father.

He just hopes he'll still be alive in the morning so that he can ask for an explanation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a side note, I love me some sneaky foreshadowing, so if you feel like it, I’d suggest paying attention to details ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	2. Chapter 2

A series of knocks startles him, and Jongin jolts up, a groan scratching his throat when his stiff back and sore neck protest.

“Your Highness?” a muffled voice he doesn't recognize calls. “Are you awake? Can we come in?”

Confused, he looks around him, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He finds himself seated cross-legged on his futon, still clad in his gonryongpo, jade belt awkwardly slanted and poking his thigh.

He must've fallen asleep and slumped back on the wall behind him, considering how numb his legs feel.

The blood rushes back in his limbs as soon as he untangles them, and he grits his teeth, trying to keep as still as he can, waiting for the sudden pain to subside. As if to mock him, a few more knocks on the door resound in the room, and Jongin lets out a raspy grunt when his body flinches, sending a new wave of nasty prickles in his legs.

“Your Highness?” the same voice repeats, a concerned undertone lacing it. “Are you all right?”

“Give me a minute!” Jongin snaps, unable to hold back his irritation.

When the feeling of little ants chewing the inside of his veins and muscles finally recedes, Jongin lets his head drop down with a relieved sigh.

“Come in,” he grumbles loud enough to be heard, just as he notices the jade sculpture located near his knee.

Jongin frowns, wondering how the decorative item ended up there before his eyes suddenly widen when last night’s events come back to him.

It is too late, however, and his head snaps back up as the doors open with a crack, and a faint metallic clatter reaches his ears.

The room is still dark, the sun being barely up, but his eyes easily catch the gleam of silver swaying ahead of him, right behind a young eunuch. Jongin has never seen him, but he is familiar with the look on his face. Fear is carved on each of his features, reflecting with absolute perfection the dread saturating every single fiber of Jongin’s body.

Unconsciously, his hand reaches by his side, and just as his fingers brush the cold surface of the sculpture, he sees the hybrid’s eyes narrowing toward it.

The low growl elicited by the action is instantly followed by gasps, the court ladies behind the beast all taking a simultaneous step back.

The eunuch by the hybrid’s side somehow manages to stay still, despite the frightened glances he throws to his right. Jongin can't blame him; he's glad to be at a reasonable distance from them.

Who even let him in? Who thought it would be a good idea to bring him inside the _Crown Prince_ ’s bedroom? And why is there no guard to prevent him from lashing out?

So many question Jongin has no answer for, nor gets the chance to ask. The words are stuck in his throat, and his skin suddenly feels clammy, breaking into a cold sweat when he sees the eunuch and the hybrid steps further in the room, closer to him.

The next second, he's standing in a mess of limbs, wobbling on his feet when his still numb legs fail to adequately support him. It’s by sheer strength of will that he remains motionless when his mind is screaming at him to scurry backward as he crosses those ominous eyes, once more.

He had almost forgotten what it felt like to be pinned down by the fire burning in the hybrid’s irises. He remembers now, barely even hearing the eunuch’s shaky voice addressing him, too busy being consumed by the silver flames.

“Good morning, Your Highness. My name is Hoseong, I have been assigned as your personal eunuch from now on.”

The man bows, but Jongin remains unable to avert his gaze from the sinister blaze. Even the thick dark rim surrounding each of the creature’s eyes looks as if the pale skin had been calcined by their intensity.

“Your Highness?... _Your Highness!_ ”

Startled, Jongin jerks his head toward the eunuch, whose call finally yanks him away from the trance he was in.

“What?”

This is when he notices the strange looks the man and the court ladies are sending him. A different kind of dread runs through his body the moment he realizes how ridiculous he must seem.

A second later, Jongin has composed himself, superiority exuding through every pore of his skin.

“What is it?” he asks, lifting his chin so that he can literally look down on the man.

“D-does Your Highness wish to bathe this morning?”

A glance down shows him the clean clothes in the eunuch’s arms, and he shakes his head. At this point, he just wants to rush into his father’s office and ask him what on earth he was thinking. But he has lessons, and he doesn't want to deal with how grumpy his preceptor is whenever he is late. The old man is one of the few people Jongin actually respects and looks up to, mostly because his mother had personally chosen him to teach her son. His father had agreed rather easily, as he always tended to do whenever Lady Somin requested something. He can still recall his mother speaking highly about the man. They were friends, Jongin believes; his tutor’s glazed eyes during his first lesson after her passing had been proof enough of that fact.

Jongin comes back to reality when he feels hands removing his belt. He gazes down at the court lady, lifting his arms so that she can untie his dragon robe, before looking back ahead.

He purposefully keeps his eyes toward the doors, ignoring the hybrid now standing on the opposite side of the room, whose menacing glare remains locked on Jongin.

When he is finally dressed, he follows his new personal eunuch out of his bedroom and down the hallway, once again refusing to acknowledge the metallic rattle ringing behind him. Jongin is unsure what he was expecting, yet he can't help but be taken aback by the undisturbed state of the main room. Nothing seems out place; no fallen furniture, ripped tapestry, or broken decorative items. Not even a book on the floor, where even the porcelain shards have been cleaned already.

He takes place on the sitting mat as two hybrid girls place food on the low table, one of them almost dropping her full tray after throwing a nervous glance at the snow leopard and earning a muted growl. They both hurry outside, tails stuck between their legs before he even gets to say anything. Not that he blames them; as cowardly as it sounds, Jongin wishes he could do the same.

Breakfast seems to never end, with the oppressive presence in the far corner of the room, but despite the hybrid visibly trying to put as much distance as he can between them, he's glad Hoseong decided to stay. Nonetheless, he walks briskly to exit the room as soon as he is done eating.

“I see Your Highness is still alive,” Taeil says, appearing out of nowhere and falling in step next to him as he heads over to his new private study.

“Is that disappointment I hear in your voice?” Jongin jokes, raising a brow and stepping over a large puddle left by the previous day’s downpour.

“I wouldn’t dare,” the guard answers with a chuckle.

Jongin scoffs, just for the sake of it. He knows the man is sincere. Despite his rebellious side, Taeil is one of the most loyal people Jongin knows. Moreover, and unlike everyone else, his devotion to the Crown Prince has nothing to do with fearing him, which is both the reason Jongin befriended him, as well as why his father dislikes the soldier. He can still recall arguing with the King, when the latter had wanted to assign someone new as his private guard, two years prior. His decision was solely based on the fact that respect could not be earned if feelings were involved, and although Jongin disagreed, he knew that opinion stemmed from the education his father had received. He never met his grandfather, but from what he learned, the previous King was as ruthless as a tyrant can be, and used to hold very little consideration to his own blood and flesh. It’s not surprising for Jongin to see his own father carry out the same mindset with his oldest children; he would've likely acted the same way with those born after Jongin, had they lived long enough to truly interact with their father.

“Good morning, Your Highness.”

Smiling at his preceptor, Jongin steps in the room and quickly looks around. It seems like all his books have indeed been moved here, just like Taeil affirmed the previous night, in addition to a lot more, stacked on the dozens of shelves filling the space.

Without looking at them, he gives a brief dismissing nod to the suite of eunuchs and court ladies behind him, before he joins the old man at the large table placed in the middle of the room.

“Did you adjust to your new living quarters, Your Highness?”

“I have yet to visit every building,” Jongin replies, sitting in front of the man. “Last night was...eventful, to say the least.”

“I see. Am I right in assuming this has something to do with this young man?” his tutor asks, glancing toward where the Crown Prince was standing moments ago.

At these words, Jongin freezes, eyes widening as he rakes his memories to remember the faintest clattering of chains when his escort left the room. He finds nothing, however, and so very slowly, he turns his head toward the door.

Sure enough, he finds the hybrid standing there, coated by the shadow cast by one of the bookshelves. His stance is rigid, face tilted down and obscured by his long silver locks.

What is he doing here? Why did he stay?

“Your Highness?”

Looking back at his tutor, Jongin notices the curious glint in his wrinkled eyes.

“My father...gifted him to me,” he hesitantly says.

“Really?”

It is a simple word, but it is enough for Jongin to hear how unsettled the old man is. Despite asking politely, he still sounds just as confused as Jongin is about the King’s motives. But he has no explanation to offer, so he merely nods.

“I see. What should I call him?” his tutor inquires then, adding yet another question to the long list Jongin has no answer to.

“He didn't tell me,” the Crown Prince replies with a sigh before a frown makes its way between his brows.

It is a long shot, but maybe his preceptor knows about his kind. After all, he's the most educated person Jongin knows, and it can't hurt to ask.

“In fact,” he starts, straightening on his chair. “He hasn't spoken at all. I don't think he knows our language.”

“Is that so?”

“I was hoping you could be of some help. Have you heard about the tribe he was born in?” he asks, suddenly hopeful. “I was told they live in the Wild North, and that they're hunters…”

Even the smallest information would be helpful, although Jongin secretly wishes to be reassured that his life is not in danger. Which is why he quickly deflates when all he gets is a contemplative look.

“I can't recall reading much about snow leopard hybrids,” he says, glancing toward the door. “This is what he is, right?”

Once again, Jongin nods, puzzled by the calm look on the man’s face. He doesn't seem concerned in the least.

“The Royal Physician affirmed he was a purebred…whatever that means.”

“I see. Then I would advise seeking his help instead, as well as perhaps doing some research yourself,” his tutor says before branching out the conversation. “Let us focus on today’s lesson, now, shall we? Can you recite the part I asked you to memorize?”

Holding back a sigh, Jongin nods, forcing his eyes not to drift to his right, where the hybrid remains silent and unmoving.

“From book sixteen,” he begins, clearing his throat. “The Master said: There are nine patterns which are awareness of the noble man. In observation, he is aware of clarity. In listening, he is aware of acuity. In faces’ expression, he is aware of gentleness,” Jongin delivers, the words flowing out easily. “In the attitude he projects, he is aware of courtesy. In words, he is aware of loyalty. In affairs, he is aware of attentiveness. In doubt, he is inclined to question. In anger, he focuses on troublesome consequences. In opportunities to gain, he thinks of what would be right.”

“Very well,” his preceptor says with a proud grin. “Now, let us analyze those words.”

The next two hours are spent discussing each and every part of the quote, sometimes linking it to different ones they previously studied. More than giving him lectures, the old man has always tried to get Jongin to interpret by himself each part of the Analects of Confucius they would study, only providing insights when the Crown Prince would stumble upon a convoluted symbolization that he couldn't figure out.

It is far from the traditional method of teaching, but somehow, Jongin is convinced his mother chose the old man because she knew this is how her son would learn the easiest. She understood him perfectly, even from a young age, and probably more than he would ever understand himself.

He wonders how she would've reacted, seeing the snow leopard hybrid. She might've scowled, looking at the collar and chains, and claimed a person cannot be owned, no matter what species they belong to and regardless of the so-called proprietor’s status.

And had she been alive, the King might've listened to her. But she's not, and Jongin has now to deal with a menacing-looking hybrid, who is apparently supposed to follow his every step.

One more reason to miss her, because indeed, the hybrid does follow him everywhere. He is like a shadow, looming around with that ever-present rattling of chains. As much as he has always hated it, it only takes a day for Jongin to miss the time where only eunuchs and court ladies were trailing behind him wherever he went.

The hybrid servants are afraid of him too, probably even more than they are of Jongin, which says a lot. It is hard to miss the terror in their eyes, or the way they rush away when they see him. Jongin would've found it almost amusing if he weren't just as frightened as they are.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

The only breather he gets happens to be when he finally meets his father, as the sun starts to lower on the horizon. It is far from comforting to see the King’s guards stop the hybrid from entering the room, because it means they see him as a _threat_ to the Monarch, but Jongin still revels in the relief it gives him when the doors close behind him.

His father looks exhausted when he lifts his eyes from the document he was reading, likely given to him by the Chinese envoy who Jongin saw walking back to the guests quarters when he arrived. He can't condemn the King for not looking more enthused by the man’s presence; although Yangkwang has always maintained a good relationship with China’s emperors over the last centuries, it is not without diligence and compromises. The tensions between Yangkwang and Pyungpo, one of the three other kingdoms dividing the Korean lands, are proof enough of the hard work it takes to preserve the peace, and Jongin is far from impatient to be the one having to deal with the matter.

The conversation is brief, and Jongin does his best to hide his frustration, reluctantly holding back all the questions he was hoping to ask to avoid aggravating his father’s tired state. The very few answers he gets are enough, however, to let him know what he's expected to do, and he ponders over the King’s words as he slowly walks back to his pavilion.

“I thought it would be good for you,” he had said after Jongin begrudgingly thanked him for both birthday gifts.

At that point, he had been unsure if the King referred to his new quarters, or to the scary hybrid waiting for him beyond the doors. He had remained silent, though, waiting for his father to continue.

“Governing a kingdom is not an easy task,” he added. “It is not only a matter of handling finances or implementing laws. Your ministers are here to help you with that. But ultimately, a king rules alone, because he leads _people_. And for that, you need to know how to convince them, how to get them to believe in you, to believe you are doing all it takes for their well-being.”

The silence following those words had been as heavy as the look the King was sending him, and Jongin had quickly understood what wasn't said: _Even when it is a lie_.

“It will assure your protection, but you first have to control its feral nature. This is no entertainment, Jongin. This is a lesson you have to learn. Tame it.”

Jongin had refrained from correcting the pronoun, despite hearing his mother’s voice in his head.

_“Him, Jongin. He is a person, not an it.”_

Every growl and hiss has so far contradicted her statement, but he is determined to carry out the task he was given.

Jongin braces himself as he climbs the stairs leading to his quarters’ door, before taking a peek over his shoulder, ready to meet the glare he knows he will earn if the hybrid notices him looking.

He falters, however, when he finds no one behind him. Confusedly blinking, he turns on his heels and glances left and right, frowning when he only spots a few soldiers walking here and there.

It takes him a few seconds to realize it is late enough for all the domestics to be eating. He had been so caught up in his thoughts, he didn't even notice he was alone.

Not that he minds the solitude; he always tries to fully enjoy the short moments of peace he gets, when nobody is breathing over his shoulder, watching his every move.

Jongin must've stayed with his father longer than he thought, though, because barely a few minutes after he settled inside, some knocks on the doors break the quietude. Despite his previous resolution, he can't prevent his stomach from sinking at the sound of the chains.

He, however, raises his brows when he crosses Taeil’s eyes, before glancing at the grip the guard has on the hybrid’s arm.

“He tried to sneak out during dinner,” Taeil explains as a hybrid girl places food in front of Jongin.

With a sigh, Jongin dismisses everyone, nodding at his friend when he lets him know he'll stay right outside the doors in case he needs him.

The hybrid seems to be ignoring him, so Jongin decides to start eating. From his peripheral vision, he sees him moving, taking slow, small steps to his left, his range of motion visibly limited by the new cuffs restraining his ankles. He heads over to the corner of the room, once again clearly trying to put as much distance as he can between himself and Jongin, yet never turning his back to the Crown Prince. Despite the shackles, his walk remains feline, every move calculated and controlled, until he stops and becomes once more as still as a sculpture, his gaze focused on the wooden floor.

The abnormally calm behavior is unexpected, but not unwelcome. Nonetheless, Jongin dines faster than usual and doesn't wait for the domestics to clean the food and offer him some tea before he takes refuge in his bedroom.

Like the night before, he attentively listens to the silence, making sure he wasn't followed, and only after a few minutes does he finally make his way to his slipping mat, removing his dragon robe and _ikseongwan_ before lying down.

Sleep doesn't come easily to him, and Jongin tosses and turns, thinking over and over again about his father’s words.

How is he even supposed to tame the hybrid if he knows nothing about him and feels like running away every time he finds himself alone with him?

His tutor had advised talking to the Royal Physician if he wanted to learn more, but Jongin had dismissed that option as soon as it was voiced. He cannot stand the old man. Not only had he been unable to save both his mother and Seohyun’s husband, but his sister almost died after giving birth to her daughter, and Jongin only attributes her recovery to a miracle, considering how useless the Physician’s remedies had proved to be. It always makes him feel sick whenever he thinks how Yeonjoo could've been motherless before even being a month old.

Talking to the man is out of the question, but Jongin can still do his own research. He doesn't remember ever coming across a book about snow leopard hybrids, either in his collection or in the palace library, but it would undoubtedly make things easier if he could get his hands on some documents mentioning the tribes living in the Wild North.

“ _Tame it_ ,” his father said. From what he had seen watching the stable boys train the hound dogs, the best way to domesticate an animal is to gain its trust. And although felines are less easily subdued, Jongin will have to count on the hybrid’s human part to facilitate the process.

If Taeil is right, the snow leopard won't try to harm him. Jongin just needs to get the hybrid to trust him. Easier said than done, yet it is as best of a plan as he can come up with for the time being. It soothes his mind, just enough for him to finally fall asleep after reminding himself to ask Hoseong to get him the books he needs.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

The eunuch has still not found anything when Jongin questions him a week later.

The Crown Prince has gotten used to the somber presence following him wherever he goes. He knows it has a lot to do with Taeil trailing alongside since the guard decided to keep an eye on the snow leopard after he tried to slip out of the domestics’ quarters a second time.

“We almost didn’t notice,” his friend had told him that night, sounding strangely impressed when he explained how they might've not caught him, had the door not creaked.

For the last few days, Jongin has been trying to get the hybrid to talk, or at least communicate. But all his attempts have failed so far, and he still hasn't heard a sound that is neither a growl nor a hiss. The more time passes, the more idiotic he knows he looks, making weird gestures with his hands to be understood by the reluctant creature.

At least he has grown accustomed to the consistent glares thrown his way.

Another week goes by without any new escape attempt, so he decides to get the chains off. Hoseong looks beyond frightened and exits the room at a fast pace as soon as Taeil unlocks the shackles, but Jongin nods to the guard to keep going.

“You _cannot_ leave,” he says, emphasizing his words by making a walking motion with two fingers, then shaking his head as he makes an X with his forearms.

Choosing to ignore Taeil’s barely concealed snort, he keeps staring into the hybrid’s eyes, hoping to get his point across.

Not being as afraid to get closer, he ended up noticing they weren't silver, as he initially thought. His iris are actually a pale bluish grey around his pupils, turning into some sort of sage green toward the edges, with little specks of brown and gold here and there, even more noticeable when they get highlighted by candlelight. They almost look iridescent, like the crystal opal Seohyun wears on her ring finger. It is a shame that the softness of the colors gets so often canceled out by the hostility consuming those eyes.

Today, however, the animosity seems less present. The glare is still there, but Jongin doesn't get the feeling that the hybrid is ready to jump at his throat. He might appreciate having his shackles removed, but Jongin remains cautious, nonetheless, and keeps his distance in case this is just a ruse to make him lower his guard before attacking.

“Do you understand?” he asks, despite knowing he won't get any answer. “You have to _stay_. You'll get caught anyway if you try to escape,” he says, hands dropping by his sides for the lack of idea of how to illustrate his words.

He doesn't know what he expected, but it surely wasn't to hear a condescending scoff in response. Even Taeil looks shocked, eyes wide open and hands hovering near the hybrid’s neck as he was about to unlock his collar.

“What-… You _do_ understand Korean!” Jongin exclaims when the realization hits him.

Instantly, the mocking expression falls from the hybrid’s face as he starts glaring at the floor, silver ears flattened on each side of his head. He almost looks mad, likely at himself for unintentionally letting this information slip.

Jongin is conflicted. On the one hand, he has now an advantage after days of trying to find something tangible about the snow leopard. But it also means he has repeatedly made a fool out of himself, trying to communicate with hand gestures while the hybrid perfectly understood what he was saying.

On the list of things Jongin abhors, being ridiculed places quite high, and this ultimately overpowers the satisfaction. He ends up being the one glaring at the hybrid, jaw and fists clenching, barely refraining from ordering Taeil to put the chains back.

“Make sure he doesn't leave this room,” he coldly says, before stomping outside.

He hasn't even made it down the stairs that his stupid cortege of servants is already on his tail.

“Do _not_ follow me!” Jongin snaps, walking away without a look for them.

Lost in his infuriation, he doesn't notice where he's heading to until a loud neigh startles him. Turning to his left, he instantly meets two big, dark eyes, and feels his face break into a smile as the anger ebbs away.

“Hello there,” Jongin chuckles, walking toward Daol.

Head bobbing as Jongin swings the stall door open, the palomino stallion gives him a low nicker in greeting.

He is not even surprised that his steps unconsciously brought him to the stables. Whenever he craves some freedom and solitude, he often opts for going on a ride. Only one or two guards – usually Taeil and Sehun – come along, and they both know him enough to keep silent and let him savor those short moments of quietude. He is not sure they understand why he needs it so badly, sometimes; why he feels so lonely, despite so rarely being alone. But he's thankful nonetheless for the way they act when it happens.

“How are you today?” Jongin asks, walking in the stalls and reaching out for the horse to smell his hand before patting his neck. “It’s been a while since we went on a walk, huh?”

As if to agree, Daol bobs his head, his tail flapping against his flank to shoo a fly away.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Jongin softly says, stroking along the horse’s shoulder. “I wanted to go on my birthday, but it was raining too hard.”

Eyes widening, Jongin can't hold back a little laugh when he sees Daol shake his head, white mane flailing before flopping back on his golden coat as he blows some air through his nostrils.

“What, you don’t believe me?” the Crown Prince asks, stepping back in front of the stallion. “It’s true! We would’ve been completely drenched before even making it out of the palace grounds!”

As he gently caresses the bridge of the horse’s nose, Jongin chuckles again when Daol nudges his hand, then his cheek, wet muzzle pressing against his skin.

“All right. How about we go for a ride now?” he says, hand still stroking up and down. “The sun won’t set before a few hours. Would you like that?”

Another nudge against his face makes his smile stretch even more.

“I should come here more often. You must be the only one always truly happy to see me,” he sighs, scratching the horse’s jaw before taking a step back. “Come on.”

The soft clip-clop of Daol’s hooves follows him as Jongin exits the stall, hailing one of the stable boys and asking him to bring his horse tack. A few minutes later, the Spaniel hybrid is hanging everything on the stall swinging door, also leaving a small crate with treats a few steps away.

“Has he been groomed already?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the hybrid answers with a bow. “Earlier this afternoon.”

“Good. Get another horse ready and inform my guard we’ll be leaving promptly,” Jongin instructs, turning away to grab the woven saddle pad.

Out of all the hybrids working at the palace, the stable boys are probably the less intimidated by Jongin; likely because whenever he is here, his mood is lighter than usual. The anticipation before going on a ride, or the serenity when he comes back makes him less prone to snap at them, and it shows in the way the hybrid walks away with no rush in his steps.

“Let’s get you ready, shall we?” he tells Daol, lightly rubbing the saddle pad on the stallion’s flank as to not startle him when he places it on his back.

With the same caution, he repeats the action with the saddle, before properly adjusting its position.

“Good boy,” Jongin croons, gently patting the horse’s shoulder when he remains completely still.

Daol is usually rather calm, but it’s not rare to see him lightly paw at the ground when he gets excited, making it difficult for Jongin to saddle him efficiently.

This time, however, apart from bobbing his head when he's talked to, he doesn't stir, and Jongin is nearly done buckling the cinch on the right side when he hears footsteps approaching behind him. He keeps going, assuming Sehun must've been near the stable for him to come in so quickly. But then, the soft tapping of metal against the straw covering the ground makes him freeze for a second.

Straightening back up, he pretends to fix Daol’s mane next to the saddle pad as the person slowly walks. It is useless, of course; it’s not as if Jongdae could see his act.

“Jongin-ah?”

“Hyung-nim,” Jongin curtly answers as the footsteps finally stop.

“How are you?”

“Fine.”

A hand appears on his right, searching the air for a few seconds, before softly landing on Daol’s shoulder.

“Do you need something?”

“Am I not allowed to come and spend some time with my little brother?” Jongdae cheerfully asks, stroking the golden horse’s coat.

With an annoyed sigh, Jongin brings the saddle fender down, before walking around the stallion.

“I heard Taeil talking about the special present Father had for you,” Jongdae continues, undisturbed by the younger’s behavior.

At these words, Jongin realizes he indeed hasn't seen his brother, even less spoken to him, during the last two weeks. Not that they usually have long, heartfelt conversations, but he does notice the elder walking around, every now and then.

“So?”

“So, I was curious to know what he looks like,” Jongdae replies, a strain in his voice as he gets up after grabbing a carrot in the crate.

“Like a hybrid.”

“Oh, someone is a mood today,” the elder chuckles, tottering back in front of Daol before offering him the treat.

“I'm not in a mood,” Jongin retorts, reaching under the stallion’s belly to catch the cinch.

“Is he as scary as they say?”

“I am _not_ scared!” Jongin exclaims, straightening back up in a sudden move and startling Daol.

“I never said you were,” his brother giggles, aggravating his irritation as he breathes an apology for the horse. “No need to be so defensive.”

Pressing his cheek against Daol’s neck to reassure him, Jongin sighs, shutting his eyes to calm himself.

“I wouldn't blame you, though,” Jongdae continues. “The soldiers made it sound like he is a lot to handle.”

“I can tame him,” the younger sharply counters, stepping back and grabbing the cinch again with a glance at his brother.

“I’m sure you can,” Jongdae replies, his joyful voice unwavering as he rolls his eyes.

Jongin promptly looks back down at his hands. He hates when his brother does that. It makes his milky irises even more noticeable, which has always somewhat creeped him out, ever since they were young.

“I do,” he insists, focusing on tying the leather strap properly.

“So eager to prove your worth to our father…”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jongin asks with a frustrated sigh, dropping his arms by his sides and looking back up at Jongdae.

It’s a shame that the elder can't see his annoyed expression. Maybe then he would finally leave him alone. He must, however, somehow feel it because he, too, lets out a sigh.

“Nothing,” he answers tiredly before his smile is back on his lips. “Will I be able to meet him?”

Jongin is about to answer, his eyes still locked on Jongdae’s face, when a sharp voice calls his name. Instantly, his brother’s grin vanishes, all traces of emotion leaving his traits.

“Father?” Jongin says, turning around and bowing in front of the approaching King.

He hears Jongdae greets the man from behind him, but with no surprise, the elder doesn't even earn a glance.

He never did, as far as Jongin can remember. His only saving grace, quite literally so, was to have progressively lost his vision after he turned one. The whole kingdom had known him as the Crown Prince for an entire year. Had he come into this world without sight, those milky eyes would've earned him to be declared born still, and likely to be killed in secret. He was too young to remember anything, though, and Jongin, two years younger, has only ever known him with a probing cane in his hand.

“I want you to go to Cheokgil’s market, this coming Sunday,” the King declares without preamble.

Heart sinking, Jongin falters, almost losing his grip on the bridle he just grabbed, before looking up at his father.

“Why?”

“People need to see you. You should have gone sooner, right after your birthday,” the Monarch asserts, a tinge of reproach in his tone. “The entire kingdom celebrated you.”

Guilt tightening his guts, Jongin nods.

“Go and talk to some merchants. Have a stroll around. Show them you are grateful,” his father continues, scrutinizing his reaction.

It has been a while since he visited Cheokgil, and even longer since he went to their market. All the precious memories he has from there turned sour the day his mother passed away. If he could, he would never step foot in that place, but he knows that refusing, or even arguing, is not an option.

“Yes, Father,” he replies with a small bow, the leather of the bridle creaking between his clenched fingers.

“Good. Oh, and bring your hybrid with you.”

And if Jongin’s mood was awful after his conversation with Jongdae, it’s nothing compared to how defeated he feels as his father walks away.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

The dreaded outing approaches way too fast, and when Sunday rolls around, Jongin wakes up feeling worse than he had in a long time.

Not even his ride had been able to ease the tension straining his entire body, and even the usually silent Sehun had apparently felt compelled to inquire about his well-being.

He hasn't attempted to talk to the snow leopard since that day and has done his best to simply ignore his presence. It was no easy task, considering the hybrid is _always_ around, making himself noticed by means of glares and growls directed at anyone coming too close to him.

As far as he knows, and despite getting his chains taken off, the hybrid hasn't tried to escape again, although Jongin attributes this to the guards' surveillance more than to the hypothesis of the feline wanting to stay at the palace. Which is why he's not surprised in the least when he sees him glower at the five soldiers marching toward them as they prepare to leave. He might've thought today would be the perfect opportunity for a breakout.

Just out of spite, Jongin scoffs loud enough to be heard, earning a glare, before stepping in his open _gama_ and sitting down.

It only takes them two hours to get to Cheokgil, despite how slow they travel, and Jongin gets assaulted by the myriad of smells and noises as soon as they enter the vast market.

He might be dressed in a casual hanbok for the day, but given away by his escort, he quickly finds himself recognized, and it’s to the sound of excessive greetings that he begins making his way between the colorful stalls.

It feels odd to be surrounded by the boisterous atmosphere. The merchants’ shouts, the children’s laughter, the familiar fragrances; everything is bringing memories back, from deep corners of his mind he locked down long ago. Happy ones, that turn bittersweet the second they resurface, tightening his guts and shallowing his breath.

All Jongin wants is to turn around and leave, but even though he could handle the scolding it would bring, he refuses to see disappointment filling his father’s eyes. So, with a little sigh, he forces a smile on his face and nods at whatever the young woman selling colorful fabrics is telling him.

Three hours later, his face hurts from keeping that strained grin in place as he roams the never-ending alleys. He has been offered countless gifts, and three of his guards already had to go back to the gama to drop everything they gathered in their arms. He feels bad having to refuse the food some merchants hand him, and he's pretty sure the longing looks he threw to all the ripe fruits don't help. However, growling stomach or not, not a single drop of their juice is allowed to touch his lips, since his taster stayed at the palace and is consequently unable to check the food for any trace of poison. Taeil makes sure of that, whenever he's not busy making sure the hybrid doesn't wander away.

Jongin must admit the snow leopard looks anything but comfortable. His nose keeps scrunching up, most likely due to the mix of fragrances floating in the air, some rather potent even for Jongin’s weak human sense of smell. His ears are turning in every direction, not knowing where to focus amongst all the different sounds surrounding them. Even his tail comes up to wrap itself around his stomach whenever the crowd gets too close and he has to dodge and sidestep someone.

He visibly does his best to avoid touching anyone, and it’s apparent that he never found himself in a situation like this, which, albeit not surprising considering he used to live in the wild, remains entertaining to see for Jongin.

Only for a while, though. The more people congregate in the large alleys, the more he regrets choosing casual clothes for the day, rapidly growing overwhelmed as he blends a little too well in the carefree crowd without being immediately recognized. Tiptoeing to see above the ocean of heads, he spots a perpendicular alley he knows leads to the place holding the hybrid-slave market. It ought to be less crowded in this area, so Jongin carefully works his way through the crammed people.

As he slips past a tall, bulky man, he hears someone suddenly shout something about a horse-drawn tumbrel advancing in the alley. The next moment, a movement of the crowd gets him squeezed between way too many bodies. The claustrophobic feeling crawling along his nape makes his breathing quicken as he holds back a pained moaned when elbows dig in his sides and back, and feet crush his boots.

Heartbeat accelerating and blood pulsing in his ears, Jongin starts feeling lightheaded. Voices around him protest when he pushes through, his movements becoming more and more frantic. He doesn't even know where he is going, hot flashes spreading and making him even dizzier.

He needs to _get out_.

When he finally breaks free after what feels like hours, he tumbles away, catching his breath as the wave of cold sweat slowly subsides. With a shiver, he pats above his upper lip and nape to remove the dampness, eyes wandering around.

He's not sure when dense crowds began to affect him that much. It never bothered him when he was younger, and yet, now, he hates how easily shaken he becomes whenever he finds himself surrounded by too many people.

Thankfully, as the Crown Prince, this is not a situation he has to encounter much. His guards rarely let it happen, always making sure he has enough space around him, and blocking anyone who would come too close. At the thought, Jongin swiftly turns around, ready to reassure them that no one has attempted to hurt him despite the tumult.

However, a deep frown wrinkles his forehead when all he finds are a couple of strollers conversing in merry tones, seemingly unaware of who is standing just a few meters away.

With his escort nowhere in sight, Jongin remains where he is, uncertain of what to do. He has no intention of backtracking, conscient that even if he had no problem being in the middle of a crowd, he would still have close to no chance of finding them amongst so many faces.

His eyes keep however scrutinizing the horde, looking for the familiar uniforms. Increasingly worried by the second as he fails to locate his guards, he can't contain a startled gasp when a hand land on his shoulder. He whirls around, dozens of paranoid scenarios surging in his mind, of abductors, knives against throats, and growls coming out of foaming mouths. The last one is oddly linked with a pair of pale eyes, and it is a new image, but before he can delve deeper to understand it, Jongin comes face to face with a set of tall antlers, a bit too close to his face for his liking. Instinctively, he takes a small step back, still unsure he's not about to get assaulted by an insurgent oppressed by his father’s regime.

It wouldn't be the first time, and he learned to be suspicious after a group of outcasts tried to snatch him away from his guard escort, back when he was sixteen.

This time, however, there is no cloth slapped against his nose and mouth, no blade grazing his throat, and no piercing eyes staring down at him as the world fades to black. All he sees is kindness painted on delicate features.

“Are you all right, sir?” the deer hybrid gently asks, his hand still hovering between them even after Jongin pulled away.

He must look just as troubled as he feels because both the hybrid tone and gaze are full of worry. He doesn't seem to recognize the Crown Prince, however, which, as far as Jongin is concerned, is a good thing at that moment. He would prefer to avoid finding himself once again surrounded if the hybrid were to draw attention on them.

So, tilting his head down to get his _gat_ to somewhat hide his face, Jongin nods, hoping his interlocutor will leave it at that and walk away.

He doesn't. Instead, he takes a step toward Jongin, who flinches back, the agate beads on his gat straps swinging with the movement.

“Are you lost?” the hybrid inquires, bending a little to catch Jongin’s eyes under cover of his hat.

“No, I…” Jongin starts, before clearing his throat as he scans the hybrid’s hands to make sure he won't reach for a potential weapon hidden in his worn-out tunic. “I'm quite all right, really.”

“Are you sure? I can help you, I know this market very well.”

The more persistent the hybrid becomes, the warier Jongin grows.

Something is strange, hybrids are usually not so fond of interacting with humans if they can avoid it. They don't have much choice when it comes to their owners, or the patrons their work entails. But despite knowing things can be significantly different beyond the walls of the golden cage he grew up in, Jongin still finds it suspicious to see a hybrid willingly initiate any form of communication with someone who belongs to the race enslaving his kind.

Distrust invading his mind, he's about to take another step back, when a voice he has known for so long resonates behind him.

“Your Highness!”

Had Jongin been told he would one day feel this overjoyed to hear Taeil use his title to call him, he would've surely scoffed. And yet, it’s indeed relief that floods inside his vein as he turns around, a smile creeping on his face at the sight of his entire escort. He is even glad to see the snow leopard walking by their side, completely forgetting he was still mad at him less than an hour ago.

A faint gasp compels him to look over his shoulder, only to find a horrified hybrid, whose already large eyes seem to be ready to fall out of their sockets. A second later, the young deer is bowing as low as his spine allows him, his antlers brushing against the hem of Jongin’s hanbok.

“Please forgive me, Your Highness,” he says, tone imploring.

Ordinarily, Jongin would've dismissed him, most likely in a brusque manner. But he's not at the palace, and he's still too elated that his guards found him, so he simply nods, and offers the hybrid a little smile when the latter looks up. The two large eyes, however, shift beyond Jongin, right before a low growl makes the poor creature jump back with a pitiful whine. The next moment, he's walking away, steps brisk and tail flagging in fear.

Raising a brow, Jongin turns to look at his own hybrid, whose narrowed eyes are focused on the fleeing deer. His jaw is visibly clenching, ears turned sideways.

“He was not a threat,” he merely says, ignoring how hypocritical he is, considering how frightened he was just a few minutes ago for that exact reason.

Of course, Jongin is not foolish enough to think the snow leopard was worried for his safety, and only meant to imply that, as a predator, he shouldn't have been concerned by the deer hybrid. But as usual, every interaction between them – even wordless – resemble a fight, and unsurprisingly, the glare lands on him, joined by a deep frown.

“Your Highness, you can’t disappear like this!” Taeil intervenes as he walks closer.

“It wasn't on purpose,” Jongin replies, rolling his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter. I would like to avoid getting tortured or executed. So please, stay close.”

His tone is light, almost jesting, but Jongin can recognize the truth lying under the humor. He still remembers the sentence his father had declared for the guards supposed to protect him, the day he was nearly abducted.

“Will you put me on a leash if I wander away?” he jokes to avoid thinking about his friends’ lifeless bodies swinging at the end of a rope.

“I might,” Taeil chuckles with a discreet wink.

Right. Jongin should've remembered his friend’s peculiar tastes when he beds hybrids, sometimes.

A click of a tongue, followed by an irritated sigh pluck them out of their banter, and they both turn to look at the snow leopard who begun marching toward them. It takes Jongin a lot of self-control not to flinch away when the hybrid stops right in front of him, forcing Taeil to take a step to the side.

Eyes widening, Jongin watches the hybrid’s nose scrunching up as if something were upsetting his sense of smell, before freezing when fingers grab his hand. Body tensing, he barely has the time to brace himself, visions of claws tearing flesh invading his mind before his wrist ends up pressed against the hybrid’s neck. Only a few seconds pass, during which he stares into opalescent eyes that look right back at him, and just like that, the contact ends, leaving him breathless and utterly confused as his arm falls limp against his side.

The snow leopard steps back, looking away, and it is only when Taeil clears his throat that Jongin snaps back to reality.

“Let’s go,” the guard says, nudging his head to the side. “It’s less crowded over there.”

It takes a conscious effort for Jongin to act as dignified as his title entails as their group meanders in the market. His gaze keeps landing on the snow leopard, a frown etched between his brows as he tries to understand what exactly happened.

The hybrid _touched_ him, and albeit not gentle, strictly speaking, there was no brutality either during the brief moment their skin connected. Even his pale eyes held nothing of the animosity Jongin witnessed so often. He looked annoyed, at most, for a reason Jongin cannot fathom.

Of course, no matter what species one belongs to, the neck remains a vulnerable spot, and it is commonly unwelcome to touch it in situations not involving a certain degree of intimacy. But Jongin is not the one who initiated the contact; the hybrid did, and it makes his miffed expression all the more puzzling.

Far from being as baffled as Jongin is, Taeil looks rather entertained by the number of subtle glances the Crown Prince sends to the hybrid, as if he knew something. So the moment he finds himself in front of a random stall with his personal guard by his side, Jongin seizes the opportunity, hoping his friend will let him in on whatever seems to be the secret.

He pretends to be checking the items in front of him and, offering a smile to the merchant after making sure the other soldiers and the snow leopard are out of hearing range, he leans toward Taeil.

“What on Earth was that?” he asks, assuming the guard will know what he's referring to.

“A vase, Your Highness,” Taeil answers, glancing at the ceramics displayed on the large wood plank before looking at him innocently.

Too innocently to be genuine.

Jongin clicks his tongue, scowling at him but only eliciting a chuckle.

“He must've used a pulse point,” the guard says with a shrug, focusing on a set of teacups.

“A what?”

This is anything but explanatory, and judging by the way Taeil bites his lip to hide his smile, he knows it’s not helping.

“I reckon he marked you, Your Highness.”

“I beg your pardon?” Jongin blurts out, a little too loud, earning a surprised look from the merchant.

“With his scent,” Taeil finally explains. “To be able to find you more easily, if you were to get lost again.”

“I was _not_ lost,” Jongin retorts by reflex.

“If you say so.”

This is, however, not the most concerning.

“What do you mean by ‘ _his scent’_?” he asks, peeking above his shoulder to once again make sure the hybrid is far away enough not to hear.

“It is not permanent, if this is what worries you. It’ll fade away eventually,” Taeil answers, still looking way too amused for Jongin’s liking. “Being in your vicinity for a prolonged period has most likely already left his scent on you. Simply touching you would’ve made it stronger, but I suppose using the pulse in your inner wrist will help to exude it the most effectively.”

Frowning, Jongin vaguely remembers seeing Seohyun place a drop of her perfume on the inside of her wrists and pat it below her ears. Without thinking, he brings his own wrist up to his nose and takes a little whiff, not really knowing what he is even searching for. He didn't notice any kind of smell on the hybrid whenever they stood close.

A poorly concealed snort on his right complex him to jerk his arm away.

“You can't smell it, Your Highness,” he says. “It’s not perceptible to humans.”

Clearing his throat, Jongin arranges the collar of his hanbok, pretending this is what he intended to do. Sadly, Taeil doesn't get fooled and throws him a clearly entertained look.

“Make sure not to hurt yourself by rubbing your wrist too hard when you’ll bathe.”

His tone is sarcastic, and Jongin rolls his eyes, walking away from the stall.

“Your Highness should be glad. I heard real felines mark things with urine.”

“It would serve you to stop talking, right now.”

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Something changes after that day. Not from the snow leopard, of course; glares and growls remain his mean of communication, and he keeps looking entirely out of place wherever they go, although some of the scowls directed at the Crown Prince did turn into mere unimpressed looks.

Jongin, however, has started observing him a lot more carefully, and things he hadn't notice before became so blatantly obvious that he wonders how he even missed them.

For example, he now knows whenever someone is approaching, no matter how silently they walk. One of the hybrid's ears always swings to a different direction, before flapping for a brief instant, just like a bird’s wing. His acute hearing never errs, and these little tics invariably lead to a knock on the door or a voice calling the Crown Prince.

His face does strange things too. Like his cheeks, that always get redder whenever they're inside, and only come back to their pale tone when hit by the ruthless winter wind. This is something Jongin fails to understand, himself having the exact opposite problem, in addition to teary eyes and a snotty nose if he stays outside for too long in the cold weather.

He also notices the weird sway the hybrid has on animals. Real ones, like the hound dogs, which always stop barking instantly as soon as the snow leopard looks at them, a low growl vibrating in the back of his throat. And yet, he seems to be afraid of the horses, which, in turn, greatly amuses Jongin. He can't help but commend himself for training Daol properly, though, seeing how the stallion remains mostly still, even when confronted to the hissing hybrid. But it’s rather entertaining to see his feline ears flatten back and his tail puff up to twice its width as he slowly walks backward. Jongin even thinks Daol sometimes nickers on purpose to elicit this reaction, because he finds it amusing too. He makes sure to offer the horse a treat whenever he does; usually apples, they’re his favorite.

Actually, he's almost sure the snow leopard likes fruits too. He has seen him ogle from the other side of the room, eyes focused on the colorful assortment Jongin is served every afternoon with his tea. Curiosity picked, the Crown Prince tried asking one of the guards about it, since they're still keeping a close eye on the hybrid. Unfortunately, he got no information about his tastes, and all he learned is that the snow leopard usually eats alone in one corner of the domestics’ quarters, sending dirty looks to the other hybrids whenever they look at him. The guard was, however, not sure if he ostracizes himself or if the others are keeping him away because they’re scared. Jongin thinks it’s most likely both.

He cannot fault them for being frightened. In most people’s mind, hybrids, as their name self-explains, are a perfect mix between humans and animals. Yet, Jongin views the snow leopard more like a paradox than a blend. He can act like a human to the point that it becomes uncanny, and then the second he gets startled, it’s like a sudden snap. As if a lever was brutally pulled and his animal side was taking complete control of his body. The abrupt change is unsettling, yet oddly mesmerizing.

He knows this has a lot to do with where the hybrid comes from. From what he gathered in the few pieces of information Hoseong ended up finding, the tribes living in the Wild North rarely interact with humans, being almost entirely self-dependent. There was only a short paragraph about the snow leopards, and although the lack of common knowledge is frustrating, it is understandable; living in the coldest part of these lands, hidden high in the mountains, they are hardly ever sighted, and those who know about them never had much to share.

It makes Jongin wonder how his father even managed to capture one, but it does end up giving him an idea. If what the book says is true, the hybrid’s living conditions were hard, so perhaps offering him comfortable surroundings would help to gain his trust.

So far, he has been sleeping in the main room of Jongin’s pavilion, which now seems quite stupid to Jongin, considering the two bedrooms left unoccupied, next to his own.

 

It’s with determination and a tinge of excitement that he concludes his sword fighting practice and walks up toward the snow leopard, who stands near the training ground entrance, gaze fixed on the group of soldiers chatting by the weapon racks. His left ear twitches, before his iridescent eyes zoom on Jongin, and Jongin clears his throat, only hesitating for a second.

“Would you like to try, next time?” he asks as casually as he can, nudging his chin toward the lined up targets.

He noticed the snow leopard was extremely attentive during his archery practice, earlier, and this is as good of a conversation opener as he can think of. Not that he thinks the hybrid will reply, of course, and to prove him right, silence stretches as the snow leopard looks away.

“All right. Just...follow me,” he says, mentally cursing at himself because, really, what else would he do? “I have something for you.”

If the hybrid is even remotely intrigued by his words, he shows none of it, and merely trails behind him once Jongin starts walking, Sehun jogging to join them immediately.

When they finally reach his pavilion, Jongin asks the guard to wait outside before stepping over the threshold. A few glances over his shoulder later, to make sure the hybrid is still behind him, he stops in front of the door at the very end of the hallway.

According to Taeil, this is supposed to be his _future heir_ ’s bedroom, which is horrifying enough for the idea of letting a feral hybrid use it to sound like a better option. It might very well not be the best decision he ever took, considering the snow leopard’s wild nature, but he still hopes it will help. Surely, he'll realize Jongin ought by no mean to do this for him, but _chooses_ to do so because he wants him to feel at home.

Lost in his thoughts, trying to convince himself he's doing the right thing, Jongin gets brought back to reality by an irritated sigh on his left. Reaching out, he fumbles with the sliding door, needing to tug at it a few times before it finally opens.

The bedroom is nice, much better than the last time he peeked inside, and he praises himself for thinking ahead and asking the domestics to arrange it for the snow leopard that morning.

“This is for you,” he simply says, looking at the hybrid after walking in.

Silence once again answers him as the snow leopard’s eyes roam around the space.

“The room, I mean.”

Still no suggestion he understood what Jongin is offering to him.

“It’s unoccupied for now, but I decided to let you use it.”

Finally, a reaction, although not the one he expected. There is no sign of gratitude whatsoever as if the value of this gift was utterly lost on him. Instead, it is a cold stare that gets directed his way, slowly turning into a glower the longer Jongin looks at him.

“O-of course, you can...come and go as you please,” the Crown Prince adds, starting to doubt the idea he still thought was perfect, just a few minutes ago.

The scowl shifts toward the closed window, through which the silhouette of a soldier can be discerned.

“I'll inform them,” Jongin quickly says with a nod. “The room is yours, now. They won't bother you when you're in here.”

Raking in his mind, Jongin tries to find something that could prove he means well.

“I guess I could also tell them to ease up a little on the surveillance.”

After all, the hybrid hasn't attempted to escape, despite having the opportunity that day at the market. Even more, he made sure he wouldn't lose Jongin a second time.

That comment doesn't elicit any reaction, so he continues.

“You should feel at home. And you can do as you please in here, I promise.”

In a heartbeat, ears flatten on the sides, glare zooming back on him, and with an expression dripping of disdain, the hybrid lets out a spiteful sneer that has Jongin suddenly see red. Not only are his efforts met with hostility _again_ , but he cannot believe that the creature is silently accusing him of falsehood!

“Listen,” he says after taking a deep breath to calm himself. “I fail to see what I did to you to deserve that attitude, but you clearly have a poor opinion of me.”

No change, except for a raised eyebrow that seems to mock him.

Jongin grits his teeth, refusing to ruin his attempt at getting the hybrid to trust him by letting his frustration show.

“However, as bad as your assumptions about me are, I will _not_ let you doubt my words. Ever. Know that I always, _always_ keep my promises,” he finishes, staring right into the snow leopard’s skeptical eyes.

When he gets no reaction, Jongin lets out a sigh, refraining from insisting further. He doesn't think he'll get much more from the hybrid, so after shaking his head, he simply walks away.

“You can stay here for now if you want. I'll be in the main room,” he states, before exiting the room without waiting for an answer.

He knows he will get none, anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

Jongin is in a foul mood.

He would gladly attribute this to the heavy rain drowning the palace in a somber atmosphere, but he prefers to blame a set of pale eyes that have been insolently avoiding his own for two days already.

To say that his plan failed would be a euphemism. He feels like he has gone back to square one, which, albeit highly frustrating, would be sufferable, had his father not asked this very morning if he had managed to tame the snow leopard.

Jongin has always hated to let him down, and yet he had the displeasure of experiencing one of King Youngho’s disappointed looks.

All because a stubborn hybrid who can't appreciate a gift.

And to make it worse, the snow leopard had witnessed the entire exchange. He was a few meters away, but with his enhanced hearing and sight, he undoubtedly heard every word and saw even the smallest wrinkles around his father mouth when he pursed his lips in disapproval.

Jongin was so distracted by it all that he tripped during his sword fighting practice and had to limp all the way to the palace pharmacy, an arm propped on Taeil’s shoulders.

Even now as he walks back to his pavilion, trying to conceal his gimp as much as he can to salvage what is left of his dignity, he still feels the remnants of humiliation ramping up his neck. Eyes fixed on the floor, the hybrid even had the audacity to look _bored_ as the Royal Physician tightly bandaged Jongin’s sprained knee, which, in turn, compelled the Crown Prince to refuse the pain-reducing medicine he was prescribed.

He has been ridiculed and showed weakness more than enough for this lifetime.

Still sulking, Jongin only notices he arrived in front of his quarters and already started climbing the few stairs leading to the front door when a sharp pain strikes his injured joint, and he realizes what is about to happen just a second too late. His knee gives up in a snap, right before he feels his entire body topple backward. Helpless, Jongin braces himself for the impact with the ground, eyes squeezed and jaw clenched.

But it never comes.

Frozen, his lids flutter up, glancing to his right.

Umbrella forgotten next to him, Hoseong’s hands are secured around Jongin’s arm, in an attempt of preventing him for cracking his skull open on the slippery stairs. But it would've been useless, had the two palms pressed on each side of his waist not been supporting his weight.

It all happened too fast, and the next second, the eunuch is gently pulling him up, panic distorting his features.

“Are you all right, Your Highness? Is your knee hurting? Do you need me to call the Royal Physician?”

The young man keeps spurting questions, but Jongin barely hears them. From the sharp pain coursing through his entire leg, he can sense he just worsened his injury, but all he can focus on is the lingering feeling left after the hybrid jerked his hands away, as if the contact had burned him.

He must've acted on reflex, and caught Jongin before realizing what he was doing. Had he been fully conscious of the situation, he would've most likely taken a step to the side and let the Crown Prince plummet down.

Noticing Hoseong is becoming increasingly anxious by the second, Jongin eventually looks at him, clearing his throat and trying with all his might not to turn around.

“I’m all right,” he nods, without however letting go of the eunuch’s forearm. “I just need to rest.”

Unable to put pressure on his leg, Jongin lets himself be helped inside and led to the sitting mat. Once Hoseong has made sure he's comfortable, adding a new wave of worried questions, Jongin dismisses him and the court ladies, choosing to ignore the puzzled glances they keep throwing at the snow leopard who stands near the door.

He busies himself by opening the book he started reading the night before and waits until he's alone with the hybrid to speak.

“I'll stay here for the rest of the day,” he starts, eyes trailing one the time-worn pages. “You're not required to do the same.”

When silence answers him, Jongin peeks up, only to find the snow leopard seemingly lost in his thoughts, a frown marring his forehead, the end of his tail twitching in a nervous tic.

“Did you hear me?”

For the first time in two days, he finally crosses the hybrid’s eyes, getting surprised when he notes the confusion swarming in them. For a few seconds, he watches the other blink and decides to reiterate his statement.

“You don't have to stay with me today. I won't be able to go anywhere, so you can...do what you want.”

It apparently takes some more time for the hybrid to process what he has been told. He still looks lost, however, looking around him as if he were searching for something.

Jongin realizes he might not even know _what_ to do, after being stuck by the Crown Prince’s sides since he was brought here. He figured the hybrid would take this opportunity to go outside, since the rain doesn't seem to bother him, and perhaps wander around.

So he can't prevent his eyes from widening when he sees the snow leopard slowly making his way toward the hallway. Even when he gets out of sight, Jongin continues hearing the sound of feet softly padding on the wooden floor until a door slides shut.

Eyes fixed where the hybrid disappeared, he starts wondering if he suddenly fell asleep and just imagined the whole scene.

Did he actually fall during training, hit his head and start hallucinating? Did the horrible weather give him a fever? And if so, is his need to please his father showing up unconsciously in his visions?

After all, the hybrid _is_ supposed to protect him; that would explain why Jongin’s mind took that route. And he was frustrated by the snow leopard’s stubborn behavior. Could his hallucinations have chosen to make him look gentler instead for that reason?

He doesn't feel sick, though, and there is no sign of headache hinting at a previous fall. Perhaps it did happen, then. Maybe the _hybrid_ is the sick one. He is always acutely cognizant of his surroundings, yet he seemed so lost in thoughts; even his usual feline-like quietness was lacking as he walked toward his room.

Jongin startles when a voice suddenly calls out to him. How long has he been spacing out?

“Your Highness?” Hoseong repeats through the front doors.

“Yes?”

“Her Highness your sister and-”

“Uncle Jongin!”

The doors breach open, and an impatient-looking Yeonjoo steps inside. Jongin glances up, finding Seohyun who gives an apologetic look to Hoseong, before following her daughter.

“Uncle Jongin! Mom said you fell!”

“And how does your mom know this?” Jongin asks, raising a brow at his sister who gracefully kneels on the mat placed on the other side of his low table.

“I heard the Royal Physician talk to Father,” she simply replies, prompting Yeonjoo to sit next to her.

Perfect. One more reason for his father to be disappointed is just what he needed, Jongin thinks with a despondent sigh.

“So,” his sister starts, looking around with a little smile. “Where is he?”

On the bright side, the groan he lets out at least makes his niece’s laughter resonate in the room.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Over the years, Jongin has injured himself many times. From a broken thumb to the terrifying wasp attack, bumps on the head, bruises and scratches; even some nasty cuts acquired during training.

But miraculously, his legs had never been truly hurt, until now. And for once, he has to agree with the court ladies. He heard some of them once dreamily talk about never knowing what you have until you lose it. He is almost certain they were referring to a lover, because what else could a bunch of women fantasize about? But he thinks this applies to his situation quite well.

He misses _walking_. He misses being able to do things on his own. Hoseong has to help him with _everything_ , and it is tremendously humiliating. Even Jongdae is now more independent than him!

For the fifth day in a row, he ended up being late to his lesson with his tutor, because it takes him entirely too long to cross the ridiculously short distance between his living quarters and his private study, even with Hoseong’s assistance. The old professor hasn't mentioned it, only offering understanding smiles every time Jongin apologizes. He did, however, send a curious look to the snow leopard, earlier, when Jongin stumbled, and the hybrid abruptly stepped away.

Of course, Jongin would be lying if he said he hasn’t noticed how the hybrid seems to constantly stay further away from him than he used to. Not that he was invading his personal space before, but the additional distance he now keeps between them is unmissable.

Shaking his head, Jongin focuses on the quote he was asked to read.

“People make errors according to the type of person they are. By observing one’s mistakes, you can understand their goodness.”

His preceptor nods, seemingly unaware of the concentration issues his pupil has been having for the past few days.

“Can you rephrase it?”

“No one is free from error,” Jongin starts, eyes sweeping across the words in front of him.

“Go on.”

“But one’s true character can be revealed by the way they act after making a mistake?”

“Very well!” the old man praises as if Jongin had just solved an intricate mystery. “Now, can you recall another instance of Confucius mentioning mistakes?”

Doing his absolute best not to let his gaze once again drift toward the corner of the room, where a certain someone stands motionless, he tries to delve into his memories. He hasn't read all twenty books yet, and his preceptor knows that, so he wouldn't have asked if said mention was in a part they hadn't gotten to.

He knows he must be doing a strange face, like Seohyun told him multiple times, but he really wants to find the answer. He already disappointed his father, as well as his combat training instructor; he refuses to let down his tutor too.

It takes him more time that he would like, but eventually, his eyes widen as he straightens up on his chair.

“In Book one and nine!” he exclaims, instantly earning a pleased grin from the old man. “If the noble man lacks gravitas, then he will not inspire awe in others,” he recites. “If he is not learned, then he will not be on firm ground. He takes loyalty and good faith to be of primary importance, and has no friends who are not of equal moral caliber. When he makes a mistake, he doesn't hesitate to correct it.”

“Excellent!” his tutor says, visibly proud. “How would you say that in your own words?”

“Mmh… The noble man, just like any human, is susceptible to err. But the difference between him and other people is that...he will rectify his mistakes, as soon as he becomes aware of them.”

“I’m glad to see Your Highness remembers what I teach him,” the man says, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Maybe he _did_ notice how much Jongin has been spacing out, after all.

“Of course I do,” he replies, a little embarrassed.

“Let’s end the lesson here for today. It is getting late already.”

Jongin feels bad. They didn’t go through half of what his tutor had planned for the day, despite being here for two hours. But noon is approaching, and he knows his preceptor is needed elsewhere, so he nods, offering yet another apologetic smile.

Sick of staying in his living quarters, he tells Hoseong to brings him to his private library and spends the remaining of the day reading through documents his father wants him to review. He has very little interest in the state’s finances, but as the future King, he knows this is something he has to do. And it at least has the merit of being complicated enough to require his full concentration. He doesn’t want to seem stupid when the Minister of Finance discusses all this with him during the next meeting.

The sun is already setting when he eventually closes the last roll, back cracking as he stirs from staying hunched for so many hours. Jongin calls Hoseong, impatient to finally get to rest for the night. When the eunuch doesn’t enter the room, he turns toward the door with a frown, calling out his name a bit louder.

Still nothing, and that’s when he notices there is no sign of the hybrid near the door, where he usually stands.

Could he be late enough that the domestics went eating already? He didn’t even hear the feline leaving.

The frustrated sigh is faint, but in the silent room, it still reaches his ears. Brows raising, he glances in the far corner of the library and finds the snow leopard knelt on the floor, near one of the tallest shelves.

What is he doing here?

Jongin realizes he just voiced his question out loud when the hybrid looks up into his eyes. Of course, no reply is given to him, and the snow leopard quickly averts his gaze back down.

“Should you not be eating with the others?” he still inquires, confused.

Frowning, he tries to remember if he saw the hybrid disappear earlier when he asked for his own lunch to be served in the library, but Jongin is pretty sure he was still standing near the door when the domestics came to retrieve the empty dishes.

Has he not eaten since this morning?

The flicker of gilt sparking in his guts is not a pleasing one, so Jongin turns back toward the door, hoping Hoseong will show up soon. It has nothing to do with him feeling uncomfortable being alone with the snow leopard; he just really needs to use the restroom.

When ten minutes pass, and there is still no sign of the eunuch, Jongin decides he has waited long enough. For all he knows, the man could not return before a while. His knee has gotten a bit better, so as long as he is careful, he should manage a few-minute walk on his own.

Fabric rustles behind him as he takes support on the table to stand, indicating the hybrid must've gotten up as well, ready to follow. He probably can't wait to finally get out.

Jongin has never paid attention to the palace’s wooden floors since he was seven and ended up on his bottom after slipping on the recently polished surface. But with a weak leg and no one to hold on to, it is suddenly turning into a hazardous field as he hobbles toward the door, every single step feeling like the one that will send him face first on the ground. It takes him entirely too long to reach the door, and he mentally whines when he remembers what awaits him beyond the closed panel.

How is supposed to make it down the stairs when he can’t put his full body weight on his leg? Not to mention climbing those leading to his pavilion.

The hybrid has stopped, a meter behind him, clearly waiting for Jongin to take a decision, but even after looking around once he has opened the door, there is still no sign of Hoseong. So, with a resigned sigh, he starts waddling forward.

It’s only five steps. He can do it.

And miraculously, he does. He might’ve destroyed what was left of his dignity, and his knee is painfully throbbing, but he still can’t hold back the proud grin stretching his lips as his feet finally reach the bottom. At least, no one except the snow leopard had to witness how ridiculous he looked.

Later, Jongin will curse at himself, blaming his arrogance and self-confidence for making him believe he could make it. When it happens, however, the only thought crossing his mind is that he is about to damage yet another gonryongpo. As if he hasn’t given the domestics enough reasons to dislike him already.

Like a repeat, Jongin feels his knee buckle, sending his body forward in a jerk.

Like a repeat, he barely has the time to brace himself for the impact as he falls.

And like a repeat, the pain never comes.

The sound of fabric tearing blends with his own high-pitched yelp as the air is expelled out of his lungs. Winded and confused, he stares at the cobblestone right before his eyes, and it only dawns on him that his upper body is hovering above the ground, so close that his jade belt is grating the paved surface, when the hand holding him up releases its grip on his dragon robe.

The drop is short, and undoubtedly pathetic-looking, considering the weird noise coming out of his mouth as he cushions the collision with his hands. He remains unmoving for a few seconds, wondering if it would really be inappropriate for a crown prince to be seen crawling back to his pavilion. At that point, it’s an option worth considering.

He must have stayed still a bit too long, however, because he suddenly feels the tip of a boot nudging his foot as if to check if he is still alive. With a grunt, Jongin pushes himself in a sitting position before dusting his hands and brushing the dirt off the cheek that landed on the ground. From the corner of his eyes, he can see that the snow leopard has stepped back, but he ignores him. Instead, he tries to assess the state of his knee. It feels more sore than painful, despite the light throbbing, but hopefully, he will be able to stand without toppling like an old piece of rag.

His first attempt miserably fails, just as much as the second one. The third time he tries, Jongin manages to hops on his unharmed leg, palmed pressed in the ground in front of his foot. At this point, he has abandoned all his dignity on the pavement; folded in two, with disheveled strands of hair stuck to his sweaty face and a ripped gonryongpo, all his prestige seems to have vanished entirely.

The precarious position is making his blood rush to his head, and he feels his face heating up as he tries to find a way to straighten back up without tripping when an irritated sigh reaches his ears. In his peripheral vision, a pair of feet steps toward him, right before fingers wrap around his elbow and pull him up. It takes a few seconds for the sudden wave of dizziness to subside, but before Jongin has the chance to send a surprised look to his right, the snow leopard is already walking forward, forcing the Crown Prince to drag himself along.

They progress slowly, the hybrid’s hand barely touching his arm, as one would handle a possibly contagious individual, until they eventually reach his living quarters. Fingers fold around his sleeve, and the hybrid moves on the first step, waiting there until Jongin has done the same, albeit less easily. One by one, they both climb the stairs, entering the pavilion once the snow leopard has pulled the doors open.

They only make it halfway across the room when hurried footsteps echo behind them. A second later, Hoseong’s panicked voice is filling the silence, his hands landing around Jongin’s waist.

“Your Highness! Why did you not wait for me? Are you all right? Did you hurt your knee again? What happened to your robe?”

The inquiry, fired in one breath, seems to be the clue for the hybrid to step away, and Jongin glances toward him. He wants to say something; thank him, question him, anything else than just watching him silently walk away and stand in the furthest corner of the room. But the words refuse to form in his mind, and instead, he lets Hoseong help him to sit down, nodding as he reassures the teary-eyes eunuch.

“I’m all right,” he says, patting the young man’s shaky hand. “I nearly fell, but I caught myself. My gonryongpo got torn accidentally, when I stood up from my chair, in the library.”

The excuse is flimsy and makes its way out of his mouth before he can even realize it. He is not sure why he didn’t simply tell the truth, but somehow, what happened feels like a secret, something he doesn’t really want to share before he understands it.

The eunuch doesn’t seem really convinced, but Jongin knows he might mostly be afraid of the punishment awaiting him if someone were to find out he wasn’t there when the Crown Prince needed him. After confirming a few more times that he is, indeed, just fine, Hoseong finally loses his distressed expression and rushes out to inform the servants they can serve Jongin his dinner.

They must’ve been on their way because only a few minutes later, the two hybrid girls are overloading the table with dishes before leaving the room.

Staring at the abundance of food, Jongin bites the inside of his cheek.

“Is something wrong, Your Highness?” Hoseong asks, concern resurfacing in his voice.

Jongin hadn’t even noticed the eunuch had lingered in the room.

“No,” he replies, shaking his head before glancing at the snow leopard, whose eyes are boring a hole in the floor.

It might very well be a bad idea, but the hybrid has not eaten, and Jongin is always served way too much dishes that he can never finish. Maybe for once he could limit the waste of food, as well as show him he is thankful for the earlier help, without having to put it into words he can’t seem to find.

“Can you…” he starts, before clearing his throat. “Can you come here?”

He realizes his mistake when he sees Hoseong taking a step forward.

“No, not you,” he quickly says.

It would be much easier if he knew the snow leopard’s name, he thinks with a somewhat frustrated sigh.

Hoseong stops, brows raising as he follows Jongin’s gaze. Even with the distance between them, Jongin clearly sees the frown forming on the hybrid’s forehead as he slowly looks up to meet the Crown Prince’s eyes. With his hand, Jongin beckons him over, before turning toward the eunuch.

“That’ll be all.”

Hoseong is visibly hesitant, so Jongin nods at him reassuringly, relieved when the young man finally turns away and exits the room.

“Come,” he calmly repeats to the hybrid. “Sit with me.”

It takes some time, way more than it should, but eventually, the snow leopard crosses the distance, steps slow and silent. For a moment, Jongin sees him glancing at the hallway doors as if leaving was a more appealing idea than staying with Jongin. The Crown Prince doesn’t take offense in it, though, and simply waits, pretending to rearrange the dishes on the table.

He holds back a victorious smile when the hybrid finally takes place on the floor, legs crossed. He doesn’t look happy about it, judging by his frown and twitchy tail, but he never really does. Jongin has already concluded he’s not someone who willingly shows his emotions. Apart from anger, of course; _that_ , he easily bestows.

“Eat,” he invites with a nudge of his chin toward the table as he grabs his spoon and scoops some rice.

There is no movement in front of him, except the single flapping of silver ears. Upon looking up, he finds the snow leopard eyeing the food with a scowl. As mysterious as the hybrid can be, for once it’s not hard to guess the reason for this reaction. Jongin never ventured in the domestics’ living quarters, but he is pretty sure the meal they get is far different from the luxurious dishes he is used to.

He finishes chewing, before trying again.

“Eat. Please.”

This is not a word he is used to pronouncing out loud; he never had to since his mother passed away. She used to scold him whenever he demanded things, reminding him his title didn’t exempt him from being polite.

When the feline still doesn’t move, Jongin lets out a little sigh, instantly earning a glare.

“You haven’t had dinner,” he says, looking back at the dishes. “And this is way too much for one person. They throw away what I don’t eat,” he adds, hoping the mention of food waste would help.

Growing up in the wild, in a tribe of hunters, the hybrid must have learned to be mindful in that regard.

And it indeed seems to do the trick, because Jongin sees the snow leopard slightly shuffle closer to the table, hesitating for a second before picking up a thin slice of meat and bringing it up to smell it with suspicion.

Holding back a smile, Jongin once again pretends to focus on his own food before speaking.

“It’s called _pyeonyuk_ ,” he says, diving in the white kimchi. “It’s beef, boiled and pressed. You can wrap it in some perilla,” he says, pointing at the plate full of green leaves with his spoon.

He stifles a chuckle when the snow leopard scrunches his nose, throwing a disapproving look at the vegetable.

Definitely a carnivore.

It feels unfamiliar, at first, to be eating with someone outside of his family members, but quickly, Jongin finds himself appreciating the situation. It might have a lot to do with witnessing how much the snow leopard seems to be enjoying the food, at least judging by his lightly swaying tail, so Jongin chooses to take care of most of the vegetables and leave the meat-based dishes to the feline.

The silence stretches, only filled with chewing noises, making the atmosphere rather calm and almost comfortable. It’s probably the first time since he got here that the hybrid hasn’t been even remotely on the defensive. Munching on some braised seafood, Jongin glances at him, deliberating. It could be a nice opportunity to interact with him without being glared at.

The snow leopard has yet to pronounce a word, so Jongin decides yes-or-no questions are probably the best way to go. If he still refuses to talk, he can at least nod or shake his head.

“Have you always only eaten meat?” he asks, making sure not to look at him so that he doesn’t feel scrutinized.

Albeit a bit disappointing, the lack of an answer is not surprising, but the snow leopard hasn’t stopped eating, so Jongin does the same, thinking of what else he could inquire about.

“You lived in the mountains, right?”

The twitch of his hand is barely perceptible, but Jongin sees it, nonetheless. Perhaps talking about his previous home is not the best idea.

“You must be used to snow,” he then says, opting for small talk over questioning this time. “We didn’t get much of it here so far, this winter. It’s a bit unusual, but I won’t complain.”

Despite having no bad memory associated with snow, in Jongin’s mind, it’s still too similar to rain for him to be able to enjoy the beauty of it. But the hybrid was quite literally born to live among ice crystals; it would be odd if he didn’t appreciate it.

No matter how many times Jongin has tried to imagine how his tribe can even survive in such merciless weather, it still remains a mystery. Yet, he knows this is not a topic he should address if he wants dinner to follow its course without any growling involved. Anything related to where he comes from is likely off limits, at least for now. If he formulates the question to make it about the hybrid, it might be all right, though.

“Do you like snow?”

The shrug is so subtle, and coming so long after he asked, that Jongin would’ve missed it, had he not be looking at the snow leopard at that exact second. Having to make a conscious effort to prevent a smile from blooming on his lips, Jongin forces himself to keep eating, feigning nonchalance.

It could mean anything, from ‘ _I don’t care_ ,’ to ‘ _I have an opinion, but I don’t want you to know_.’ But at this point, Jongin would’ve been happy with any interpretation. He finally got an answer, and as faint and unclear as it was, it’s still massive progress.

“You should try the seaweed soup,” he says, his elation somewhat noticeable in his tone. “It’s delicious.”

If he has to be honest, Jongin had never been much fond of _gwaktang_ , but it does taste nice that night. Maybe the cooks had recently found a new way to season it, which is somehow what he ends up saying out loud.

“It’s usually too salty, I don’t really like that. Maybe you will like the beef-bone better, though. Here, try it.”

Busy rearranging the myriad of dishes so that he can place the bowl on the opposite side of the table, it takes Jongin some time to realize he is being stared at. When he does notice, however, he halts his movement, an arm still reached across the small space.

“You know what soup is, don’t you?” he asks, sounding stupid even to his own ears.

After staring some more, although without the irritation Jongin was expecting after his rather idiotic question, the pale eyes glance at the bowl, then back up at him. For a moment, they just stare at each other in complete silence, before the snow leopard suddenly grabs the last slice of beef with his fingers and resumes eating, as if nothing had happened.

A little confused, Jongin slowly retreats his hand, unsure as to what to make of all this. Eventually, he starts eating again, looking up every now and then to watch the hybrid make a severe dent in all the plates containing meat. Hoseong is undoubtedly going to be surprised to see so much food gone.

At the thought of the eunuch, Jongin glances at the vial the young man once again placed on the table. It’s almost funny how persistent he is, despite Jongin telling him every night he doesn’t want to take the pain-reducing medicine. Out of all the personal eunuch he was assigned over the years, Hoseong is probably the only one Jongin doesn’t mind the presence of. Sometimes it almost feels like they’re friends.

They could have been, had Jongin not worn a crown.

At least this time, he might be happy, thinking the Crown Prince ate more than usual. Even Jongin cannot deny there is something oddly satisfying in seeing so many empty plates, and the snow leopard looks just as full as he feels himself.

“Have you ever tried honey chrysanthemum tea?” he asks, seeing the hybrid unconsciously pat his stomach.

The opalescent eyes follow his hands as he pours some of the pale yellow tea in the single cup on the table, staring attentively when he adds a few dried flower buds in the hot liquid.

“It’s quite sweet,” he comments, carefully lifting the cup to place it in front of the hybrid. “It’s my favorite, but I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

It’s rather frustrating to still be so clueless about him, but the fact that he doesn’t instantly rejects the beverage is, nonetheless, progress again.

Without touching the cup, the hybrid slowly bends down, nose wiggling as he sniffs the steam whirling up. He looks suspicious as he observes the floating buds swell, reminding Jongin of his own younger self.

“You don’t...eat the flowers,” he says, just like his mother had told him the first time she had him taste it, back when he was five. “They’re preserved in honey after being dried. That’s why you have to put some in the tea when you serve it.”

He doesn’t really know what to do with the look the snow leopard is sending him when he finishes his explanation. It’s a blend of confusion, skepticism, and something else Jongin can’t quite identify. He is too hard to read, and Jongin knows too little about him to be able to recognize the emotions coloring his face.

“Will you tell me your name, one day?”

The words escape his mouth before the thought even fully unfolds in his mind, and he freezes, waiting for the glare that will inevitably ensue.

But instead of a scowl, a light frown appears between the hybrid’s brow as he looks back down at the fuming tea.

Tentatively, he grabs it between his fingers and brings it to his lips before taking the smallest sip. His nose twitches, ears turning sideways for a second as he blinks at the beverage, visibly puzzled, and Jongin wonders what he is supposed to think about the lack of reaction.

The snow leopard’s behavior has been giving him strange signals all night. First, he helped him when he nearly fell, then he agreed to dine with Jongin, even going so far as answering one of his questions. Admittedly, the reply was discreet, but it happened, nonetheless. It has also been a while since a real growl was directed his way.

The sound of porcelain against wood makes him focus on the hybrid, then down at the cup.

“You finished it? Did you like it?” he asks with a little smile, before remembering something. “Do you want me to ask if they can bring us some fruits?”

The pale eyes, previously cast down, perks up for the briefest of seconds, before focusing on the table again as a frown creases the snow leopard’s brows. Biting the inside of his cheek, Jongin wonders if this was a good idea; the feline probably doesn’t enjoy knowing the Crown Prince has noticed something personal about him.

He is about to backtrack, raking his mind to find anything to say that could minimize the meaning of his question when a series of weird sounds reach his ears.

Jaw slack and widened eyes, Jongin gapes at the snow leopard.

Did he just _talk_?!

“You-... W-what?”

With a short sigh and a pronounced frown, the snow leopard turns his head away, before his lips start moving, the same long sequence of syllables soon filling the silence.

Jongin hiccups. Incredulous, he keeps staring, mind reeling.

Where did that deep velvety voice even come from?!

The sounds are unfamiliar, some consonants sourcing from the back of the throat, others vibrating on the tip of the tongue, creating the contrasting flow of a foreign language Jongin never heard.

“W-what does that mean?” he asks, still trying to convince himself he hasn’t imagined the whole thing.

Another sigh, followed by the click of a tongue.

“My name.”

A shiver running down his spine, Jongin’s eyes widen even further. He has to be dreaming, there is no other explanation.

“You-... How-... Do you-...” he stutters, trying to formulate the thoughts as he speaks. “Do you write that in one word, or…?”

With no answer, and not wanting to be ridiculous, Jongin tries to repeat the name in his mind, aware that he is forgetting a few syllables in the process. It’s way too long, and he is convinced his mouth wouldn’t even be able to replicate some of those strange sounds, anyway.

“How about… How about I give you a name I can pronounce?” he hesitantly asks.

Here it is. The glare he was waiting for, earlier.

“Just...for when I call you."

“Not call me,” the hybrid fires back.

Jongin once heard about people falling in a state of shock after a traumatizing experience. Considering the way his mind is going blank, goosebumps covering his skin a little more with each shiver, he vaguely wonders if this is what is currently happening to him.

How did the feline even go from a complete lack of communication to insolently talking back?

“I will have to, eventually,” he tries to reason, earning a quiet growl.

In all sincerity, Jongin has never been very good at naming things. It took him two months to find a name for his horse, and he still winces every now and then, when he recalls the magnificent stallion, just a foal back then, would’ve ended up being named Tongtong by his eleven-year-old self, had Seohyun not come to his rescue.

At least this time, he is not entirely helpless. Although the middle of it has been lost in some forgotten corner of his mind, he does remember the beginning and the end of the snow leopard’s name. Perhaps he can manage to find a Korean name close enough to what those two syllables sound like; like a much shorter version that he can actually enunciate without coughing his vocal cords out.

“What about...Kyusong?” he says, looking at the hybrid for any reaction, positive or negative.

That would be a no, judging by the invisible daggers thrown his way.

“All right, then maybe...Kyongsun?”

Apparently not. Why did he even think this would be easier?

Ignoring how agitated the snow leopard is growing, Jongin rakes his mind in search of something that could satisfy them both. Nothing original comes, and out of ideas, he sighs before throwing out the name of a child his mother talked about once or twice. The boy was his cousin, he thinks, but he never heard about him again after that.

“What about Kyungsoo?” he suggests, thinking it sounds nice, and is still similar enough to what he can remember of his actual name.

If the louder growl and flattened back ears are any proofs, the hybrid doesn’t like it as much as Jongin does.

“I’m trying my best,” the Crown Prince protests, starting to get annoyed.

And far from making things better, the disdainful scoff he gets as a reply ends up riling him even more.

“Well, even if you don’t like it, this is what I’ll call you from now on,” he snaps, straightening his back and lifting his chin. “And you _will_ answer to this name, period.”

In a heartbeat, the snow leopard is on his feet, clenched fists and bared teeth, his snarl echoing in the room. But before Jongin even has time to fear for a sudden attack, the feline is already stomping away.

Stunned, he stares at the hallway’s now open doorway.

People never walk out on him. _Ever_.

Jongin should be outraged to be disrespected that much.

Yet, it’s a small smile that curls one side of his lips, when he realizes the hybrid, _Kyungsoo_ , retreated to the bedroom he gave him. Not that he really has anywhere else to go if he wants to be alone, but it must mean he does consider it like his own.

It’s truly all about progress.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

One step forward and two steps back; this is how Jongin heard the saying goes.

He shouldn’t be surprised this started to apply to his relationship, or the lack thereof, with the snow leopard, no later than the morning after their little altercation.

For the last three weeks, Kyungsoo has returned to growls and glares as his only mean of communication, leaving Jongin in a constant state of frustration.

He keeps trying, though, talking to him, asking whatever question crosses his mind and calling him by the name he gave him. The latter always induces a stronger reaction, but if dealing with him for nearly two months already has taught Jongin something, it’s that he has to use all the patience he can muster when it comes to the snow leopard. And so far, he did manage to remain calm, although he could attribute this to his knee finally healing, allowing him to conduct his daily business instead of just sitting in a room alone with the hybrid.

Taeil and Sehun had a good laugh when Jongin explained the reason behind the new fire in Kyungsoo’s behavior, but like the friends they are, they have shown their wholehearted support by using the feline’s new given name whenever they talk about him. Or rather, whenever the Crown Prince complains about him in a hushed voice, to avoid being heard by said feline.

When he does find himself alone with Kyungsoo, however, he deploys boundless ingenuity to get him to talk again. It almost feels like a competition meant to test whose patience will run thin first; like a battle to see who will finally either surrender or snap and attack. And even if, so far, none of them has backed down, Jongin does feel like he might be close to winning the fight.

He has been sitting in his private library for two hours, going through some official documents his father asked him to read, when he looks up toward the hybrid. He has noticed that, whenever they’re inside, Kyungsoo has taken the habit of sitting on the ground near a window. They remain closed since winter has been particularly cold this year despite the lack of heavy snowfall, but he seems to feel more at ease under the soft light filtering through the hanji covering the wood frames.

He does, however, keeps his bedroom window open at all times. Jongin noticed it one night when he felt chilly air creeping in the hallway as he got up to use the restroom. It felt colder as he stood right in front of the hybrid’s closed door, so naturally, his first thought was that Kyungsoo had escaped. He remembers how agitated he felt when he burst into the room, expecting to find it empty. But it was a loud hiss that welcomed him, and in the dark, he had distinguished the feline’s silhouette jerk awake and swiftly back against the wall, iridescent eyes blazing under the moonlight and ears completely flatten back, ready to defend himself.

In the morning, Jongin realizes how irrational he had been. There was no way for Kyungsoo to escape; even in the dead of night, guards were still patrolling around the pavilion.

For someone born in the middle of winter, Jongin is not very fond of the freezing weather, and he will forever be grateful to whoever first came up with the idea of an underfloor heating system. But he didn’t have the heart to take away something as trivial as an open window from the hybrid. So he chose to ignore it, telling Hoseong he didn’t care when the eunuch brought the matter up.

The snow leopard is conscientiously combing his fingers through his tail, frowning when they get stuck in a tangle, when Jongin decides the room has been quiet for too long. He won’t win the battle without doing anything, and he is almost sure Kyungsoo was on the verge of breaking his imposed silence this morning, right before Taeil interrupted them.

Discreetly clearing his throat, Jongin braces himself and opens his mouth.

“Kyungsoo.”

The fingers halt for a second, before getting buried deeper in the silver fur as the snow leopard resumes his task.

“Kyungsoo,” he repeats, just a bit louder.

This time, Jongin clearly sees his jaw tense up as his lips tighten, stretching the long scar coming down his face.

A third call and Jongin knows he is close to succeeding when his hands clamp around his twitching tail, and his ears flap in evident irritation.

“You know, the polite thing to do is to answer when someone calls your name,” he says, as nonchalantly as he can.

He knows he won before he even finishes his sentence. The glare is immediate, soon joined by a low growl, vibrating deep within his chest.

“ _Not_ my name,” the hybrid lowly rumbles, fists clenching in the fur.

The victory is sweet, and Jongin doesn’t even try to hide how proud he is.

“Well, I can’t pronounce your real name,” he says with an unconcerned shrug. “So you’ll have to do with this one. It sounds similar to a short version of your real one, anyway.”

He knows he might be pushing a bit too far, but after three weeks of relentless efforts, his patience has finally been rewarded.

A series of weird sounds quietly coming out of Kyungsoo’s mouth make him raise a brow.

“What does that mean?” he asks, watching him glare at the ground.

After some more research, he discovered Kyungsoo’s tribe has a language of its own, and although there was no specific information about it, it does explain why his name also sounds so foreign.

Of course, his question is left unanswered, but it might be for the best. For all he knows, it might have been an insulting comment about him. It’s all right if the hybrid wants to go back to being silent, though. Jongin still considers today as a triumph.

“I don’t understand why you keep looking so annoyed,” he chatters, not expecting anything in return. “We took you from the wild and brought you into the civilized world. You have food, warm water, a roof above your head,” he continues, unrolling an umpteenth document filled with names and numbers. “I even gave you your own room and got high-quality clothes made for you. And you can go wherever you please when I’m not required anywhere. I don’t know why you’re being so difficult when I’m giving you everything to be happy.”

Because he was so lost in his ramble, eyes roaming the paper in front of him without really seeing what is written on it, he startles when the deep voice echoes in the room once again.

“I am before.”

Head flicking back up, he meets the hybrid’s intense stare.

“What?”

“I am happy before,” Kyungsoo repeats, voice strained by what sound like exasperation. “I not need stupid clothes and roof.”

Blinking at him, it dawns on Jongin that this is the longest sentence the feline has pronounced so far. And although his Korean is broken, with a curious accent quirking his consonants and an approximative syntax, it’s still perfectly understandable. Not that Jongin was expecting anything in particular, but he can’t help but be oddly satisfied.

“What do you want, then?” he asks, eager to keep the snow leopard talking. “Just name it, it’s yours!”

Maybe that way, he could please both Kyungsoo and his father, who has asked about the hybrid on repeated occasions.

“My family.”

He can’t deny how strange it is, to hear that low voice actually replying to his questions, after so many attempts since he discovered Kyungsoo could understand Korean. But it’s so gratifying, that at this point, he is ready to consider anything the snow leopard will ask for.

This request, however, could be slightly problematic on multiple aspects.

“I’m… Well...it’ll be hard to find them,” he starts, knowing Kyungsoo wouldn’t be allowed to leave the palace to help. “And I’ll need to get my father’s approval.”

This would undoubtedly be the most challenging part. Jongin would need to plead his case quite cautiously, to get the King to accept taking more undomesticated hybrids in. Kyungsoo is already a handful on his own, and sheltering his parents, possibly one or two siblings as well, could be highly hazardous.

“I mean, even if we do find them, I’m not sure he will agree to let you all live at the palace, since-”

“Not in palace.”

With a puzzled frown, Jongin stares at him, trying to understand.

“You want them to live in the village?” he asks, already starting to wonder if the people living in the small town right outside the palace would be fine with that option. “I guess I could-”

“Not in village,” Kyungsoo interrupts him again, looking more and more agitated.

“Then where-”

“Not here,” the hybrid cuts him for the third time. “I go back to my family.”

“Oh…”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Jongin averts his eyes with a loud huff, looking down at the document still open in front of him.

“You…” he starts, before sighing as he shakes his head. “You know I can’t let you leave.”

He can feel the glare burning the side of his face for a while, before he eventually looks back up, only to find Kyungsoo’s stiff back facing him.

The guilt weighing in his guts is soon replaced by frustration, and he presses his hands to his face.

His previous victory feels bittersweet. Maybe he lost this battle, after all.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Unable to focus on the kingdom’s finances anymore, Jongin ends up marching toward his sister’s pavilion on his own less than an hour after his discussion with the snow leopard.

He doesn’t even wait for her court ladies to announce him, and opens the door, stomping in and startling her. Seohyun lets out a little yelp, before bringing her finger to her lips as he drops on the floor in front of her.

“It’s all right,” she tells the court lady rushing by her side. “I only pricked my fingertip with the needle,” she reassures the young girl, before throwing an accusing look to Jongin.

Once they’re alone, Seohyun picks up her embroidery frame from the floor and brushes invisible dust from the fabric.

“You scared me,” she says as he studies the colorful floral composition blooming on her canvas.

This is something he has always seen her do, even back when her husband was still alive.

Married at seventeen to a man born in a noble family the King owed a favor to, her happiness had been short-lived. Yonghwa had passed away two years later, leaving behind him an inconsolable wife and a ten-month-old daughter. Jongin was only fourteen back then, but he can still vividly remembers how hollow her eyes had been for so long after that. In retrospect, he can say Yeonjoo is the sole reason his sister found the strength to fight against the darkness pulling her under.

“What’s wrong?” Seohyun asks, tearing away from the somber memories.

“What?”

“Why did you walk in here looking like an angry child?” she says with an amused smile.

“It’s Kyungsoo,” Jongin huffs, crossing his arms.

“I see,” she chuckles, before grabbing the needle and pushing it through the white fabric to start a new purple petal. “What has he done, now?”

“He's way too difficult! And way too stubborn!”

“That is quite rich, coming from you,” his sister sneers, before sighing when she notices Jongin glare. “Look, it must not be easy for him. He has been torn away from his people. Try to see things from his perspective.”

“I am!” Jongin blurts out, dropping his hands on his crossed legs. “I’ve been _really_ patient! I’m doing my best to earn his trust!”

“Jongin… You gave him a new name,” she declares, a bit too patronizingly for his liking.

“I had to!” he counters, sounding like a child even to his own ears, confirming her previous statement. “I can’t pronounce his real one. What kind of language even is that?”

“The tribe’s one, you know that,” Seohyun sighs, stopping her needlepointing to look at him. “He only knows Korean because he has to communicate with the people from the villages Yangkwang’s and Sinjae’s borders, every now and then.”

“Wh- How do you know that?” Jongin asks, eyes widening.

“Jongdae told me.”

“And how does _he_ know that?” he exclaims, feeling the familiar spark of resentment flaring in his guts, as it always does when their brother is mentioned.

“Kyungsoo told him.”

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Why are you even screaming at me, right now?” Seohyun says, her tone taking the severe inflection conferred by the five years she has on him.

Instantly, Jongin averts his eyes. He knows she didn’t do anything, but he can’t help but feel betrayed. Had Kyungsoo really been going on his merry way, talking to people – to _Jongdae_ , out of everyone – and sharing things about his life, while Jongin was turning desperate of getting him to utter a word? When did he even find the time to do that? Wasn’t he supposed to follow Jongin at all times?!

He doesn’t even know who he is the angriest at.

“Why didn’t he tell _me_ , then?”

“Did you ask?”

“I ask _hundreds_ of questions! But he either ignores me or glares and growls at me!”

Surprisingly, it’s another chuckle that comes out of Seohyun’s delicate lips.

“It’s not funny,” Jongin grumbles, antagonized by how amused she is by his anger. “I want to make things easier for him and help him adjust,” he explains, trying to convince her there is a valid reason for his reaction. “But he rejects almost anything coming from me. I’m running out of ideas.”

Forgoing her embroidery for good, Seohyun looks at him with an empathetic expression.

“I know you’re trying,” she nods, offering him a little smile. “But I don’t think that giving him a room, or some clothes is going to help, Jongin.”

“But I can’t give him what he wants,” he tells her with a sigh. “He can’t go back to his family.”

“No, he can’t. But keeping him cloistered here is not the solution.”

“What should I-”

“Uncle Jongin!”

Head snapping to his right, he feels the tension leaves his shoulders, and a smile blooms on his lips at the sight of his niece trotting toward them.

“Yeonjoo-ya,” he replies in the same jolly tone, letting her take his hand and lace their fingers when she sits by his side.

She usually becomes a real chatterbox whenever she sees him, so when she doesn’t say a word and only looks around as if she was looking for something, Jongin sends her a questioning look.

“Is something wrong?”

“Where is your hybrid?”

Great. Now even his niece is going to betray him.

Next thing he knows, she is going to tell him she and Kyungsoo play hide and seek together every afternoon.

“I’m not sure,” he huffs, earning a poorly concealed snort from his sister. “Why?”

“He’s scary,” Yeonjoo declares with that naive candidness children always have. “He growled at me when I tried to touch his tail.”

“You did what?” Seohyun yelps, eyes bulging as she stares at her daughter.

This time, Jongin is the one attempting to hide his amusement as he watches the little girl pout.

“It’s fluffy...” she says, probably thinking this is a legitimate reason.

When he sees Seohyun close her eyes and take a deep breath to calm herself, Jongin turns back to Yeonjoo and gently pats her head with the hands she is not holding.

“Don’t take it personally,” he says in a quiet voice as if it was a secret only meant for her. “He growls at everyone, especially me,” he adds, grinning when her giggles fill the room.

“Have you finished your readings for the day?” Seohyun then asks in her serious mother tone.

As an answer, Yeonjoo suddenly becomes fascinated by Jongin‘s hand. Playing along, he offers the second one, letting her poke his knuckles one by one and trace his veins with her index finger until another sigh from his sister makes her stop.

“Go on, then. Hurry.”

With a dramatic face, Yeonjoo eventually releases his hands, sending him an exaggerated heartbroken look.

“Tell him not to growl at me,” she instructs after standing up. “I won’t hurt him. I like cats.”

“I’ll tell him,” Jongin chuckles.

He won’t, of course.

He doesn’t want to imagine the snow leopard’s reaction if he heard her call him a cat. And coming from Jongin, even if he’d merely be relaying the message, it would undoubtedly make things even worse.

“Yeonjoo. Now.”

“All right, all right. I’m going,” she says, dragging her small feet toward her bedroom.

“She’s going to get into trouble, one day,” Seohyun worriedly breathes out as soon as her daughter has disappeared.

“Like someone I know.”

“This is what makes me anxious,” she replies, far from approving his teasing. “I don’t want her to go through what I experienced.”

At these words, Jongin’s smile falls, and he makes sure to lock their eyes when he replies.

“Noonim, you know I wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.”

“I do… But would you stand against our father if he were the one punishing her?”

The question feels like a slap, and he quickly looks down, shame heating his face.

“It’s all right, Jongin. I know. I understand,” his sister says in a futile attempt at reassuring him. “That’s why I need to make sure she doesn’t follow my path. I’m not asking you anything, except not to encourage her misbehaviors.”

Slowly, Jongin nods. There’s nothing to say when he knows she is right. Although he does have a profound respect for some people, there is one, and one only he would never dare to oppose.

“Forget about that for now,” Seohyun continues in a lighter tone. “I think you have a bigger issue than an unruly six-year-old to take care of.”

At the reminder, Jongin lets out a groan, tilting his head back in feigned despair.

“Can we swap them for a week?” he asks with a grimace. “I would honestly rather deal with her.”

“Come on, he can’t be _that_ troublesome,” she replies with a little laugh, reaching out to pat his hand.

“Have you _met_ him?” he rhetorically scoffs.

“Very briefly. He seemed well-mannered,” she says. “He bowed his head to greet both my mother and me.”

“Excuse me?” Jongin gapes, not believing what he just heard. “Am I the only one he constantly tries to murder by the sheer force of his mind?”

He sounds ridiculous, he knows that. But finding out Kyungsoo had been talking to Jongdae, and apparently acting respectfully around other people when he is so recalcitrant with Jongin is quite hard to swallow.

“You can’t possibly think this is only his fault, can you?”

“Who else’s could it be?!”

“Tell me you’re joking, please,” Seohyun says, throwing him a baffled look.

“I got him out of his chains and asked the guards to give him some space!” Jongin exclaims, not understanding why she seems so stunned. “I let him eat with me, and gave him all the meat because he likes it!” he keeps listing. “I gave him his own room! I told him to make himself at home!”

“You know, sometimes I am ashamed to call you my brother…”

“What? Why?!”

“Make himself at home? Really, Jongin?”

He doesn’t particularly enjoy the way she is looking at him, at this moment, as if she thought he was the biggest idiot she ever met. When he doesn’t answer, Seohyun breathes out, closing her eyes as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“He was ripped from his home. From his family. How could he ever feel _at home_ under the roof of the people who stole him away?”

Jongin stares at her, mind going back to the day he had this conversation, or rather this monologue, with the hybrid. He can recall the furor in Kyungsoo’s eyes. Jongin had thought he doubted the importance of his promise, but really, was the idea of considering the palace as his home the actual reason for his anger?

The more he thinks about it, the stupider he feels. He had truly made things worse, hadn’t he?

“What am I supposed to do, then? I really need him to trust me…”

“ _This_ is your problem, Jongin,” Seohyun sharply retorts. “Do you even hear yourself? Every time you mention him, it always ends up revolving around you.”

“But-”

“You got his chains removed. You asked the guard to let him be,” she starts listing, casting a stern look on him. “You _let him_ eat with you? Are you serious?! You keep talking about what you oh so graciously bestowed on him as if he weren’t worthy enough to expect any respect from you!”

Eyes wide open, Jongin lets the words hit him, without finding anything to say to defend himself.

“Are you really doing this out of kindness and generosity, or are you merely trying to please our father, even if it means ignoring the feeling of another _living being_? Stop acting like a spoiled child, for a minute. You can’t only selfishly think about what you need. Have you even attempted to understand _him_?”

Oppressive, suffocating, the silence following her words lasts for a long moment. Jongin stays still, feeling like a bucket of freezing water has been poured over his head.

In the deepest corner of his mind, where his most precious memories live, Seohyun’s voice starts overlapping with a slightly lower one.

“ _Quit acting like a spoiled child, would you? I did not raise you to be so selfish._ ”

It feels like a lifetime has passed, since that day. Maybe because he had conscientiously locked so many of his memories of her away, further down as time passed, afraid of forgetting the little details that made her who she used to be. He had chosen to focus on what he could do to make her proud, chosen to become the king she wanted him to be, without realizing the destination wouldn’t matter if he failed to remember the values she had tried so hard to teach him.

When he still hasn’t opened his mouth after long minutes, he feels Seohyun’s fingers wrapping around his palm, just like Yeonjoo had, earlier.

“Jongin, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“No,” he cuts her in a weak voice. “You’re right… I’ve really messed up, haven’t I?”

“You did,” she nods, her gentle tone matching the soft smile she give him. “But it’s not too late. If you try hard, I’m sure you’ll find some genuine kindness under all that arrogance,” she adds, her grin turning into a teasing smirk as she vaguely gestures at him.

Jongin pouts for good measure, tightening his hold on her hand.

“Do you really think I can fix it?”

“It might not be easy, but I don’t think it’s an impossible task,” she says reassuringly. “He has been here for nearly two months, now. What do you know about him?”

“Not much…” Jongin replies in a dejected tone, annoyed at himself for learning so little. “But whenever I try something, it ends up in a disaster.”

“So dramatic,” she chuckles. “He _did_ accept to have dinner with you, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but then it went wrong, and he walked to his room.”

“See? He did accept the room, too. The situation is really not as desperate as you think,” Seohyun tries to reason, shaking his hand for a second to emphasize her encouragements. “He will open up to you, eventually. You just need to make him see you’re not the conceited brat he thinks you are.”

“All right, easy on the jibes,” Jongin grumbles, earning a little laugh.

“Look, the simple fact that he told you he wants to go back living _in the wild_ should show you how much he doesn’t care about all this,” she says, her free hand vaguely gesturing at the room. “So instead of wondering what the Crown Prince could have to offer him, try thinking about what _Jongin_ can do to make him feel less...disorientated.”

At first, Jongin fails to understand the distinction she is making. He is the Crown Prince; he has been since the second his mother gave birth to him, and the Royal Midwife declared he was a boy.

But then, the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes how his actions could have been interpreted. Offering the snow leopard his own room, luxurious clothes, an opulent dinner. Jongin had thought he was doing him a favor by giving him things he never had when in reality, he had been flaunting his lavish lifestyle.

Seohyun is right, the hybrid obviously doesn’t care about all the sophistication. He had even said it himself; he was _happy_ in the wild. Jongin had taken the comment as a sign of defiance and stubbornness when really, he has been the one refusing to see what was right in front of his eyes all along.

Images of Kyungsoo longingly staring outside from the confine of the library flash in his mind, joined by Taeil’s voice.

“ _He belonged to a tribe of nomadic hunters_ ,” the guard had said.

Slowly, an idea starts unfolding in his mind, and he straightens his back, eyes widening.

“Noonim... You’re a genius,” he breathes out, suddenly getting up.

His sister lets out a chuckle, looking up at him as his plan gets clearer in his head.

“I’m glad you finally admit it,” she replies.

“Thank you!” he then says with a broad smile, before briefly waving at her and turning on his heels.

“Try to tame that short-temper of yours, all right?” she loudly replies right before he exits the room.

“I will,” he nods, quickly looking above his shoulder to see her smile at him.

The next second, he is stepping outside, glancing at the wooly clouds with confidence. He will have to think about Seohyun’s verb choice later; she was too clever for it not to be deliberate.

For now, though, he needs to focus. He has to make some arrangements if he wants his plan to work.


	4. Chapter 4

Three days later, everything is ready.

Jongin has tried his best to keep the secret from Kyungsoo, but he knows the smiles he sometimes couldn’t hold back might have seemed rather cryptic, judging by the suspicious looks the hybrid has cast upon him. It might also have something to do with the space Jongin has given him, only talking to him when it was unavoidable.

The King looked surprised when Jongin asked for his approval, but since he had been careful in his wording, only giving the essential information and keeping his ulterior motive for himself, it has been easy to be granted permission. He did, however, explain everything to Taeil and Sehun, since the two guards would be joining the outing. As he expected, they both had supported the idea and promised to help make it a success.

He waits until that evening to finally tell Kyungsoo what will happen the next day, having previously asked Hoseong to add some seasonal fruits to his dinner in order to have a relatively plausible excuse to invite the hybrid to sit with him even if he already ate with the other domestics.

Offering fresh fruits couldn’t be considered as bragging, right?

The snow leopard is hesitant when Jongin asks him if he’d like to sit with him. He cannot fault him, of course; the last occurrence ended up rather badly. So he patiently waits for Kyungsoo to cross the room and kneel on the sitting mat Hoseong placed on the other side of the table at Jongin’s demand.

To say that he is nervous would be an understatement. He was excited as he was arranging everything, and he still is, deep down, but now that he is about to proceed with the big reveal, stress is taking over, and the wary look on Kyungsoo’s face is making him doubt the whole ordeal.

Pressing a hand on his leg to keep it from bouncing, he clears his throat before nudging his chin toward the bowl full of fruits.

“You should have some,” he starts, using what he hopes is the less commanding tone ever mustered by a living being. “I don’t really like tangerines, but they’re fully ripe, and they’ll get spoiled soon if no one eats them.”

The mention of food waste had worked last time, so Jongin has good hopes it will again.

And it does. Despite the suspicion in his eyes, Kyungsoo eventually picks one of the fruits and starts delicately peeling its skin, flinching and rapidly blinking when a drop of juice squirts straight in his eye.

Stifling a nervous laugh, Jongin grabs himself a sliced snow pear and pretends to examine it for a few seconds as he repeats the words he practiced in his mind as he was eating, earlier.

“So… You’ve been here for two months now,” he says, keeping his eyes down on the pale yellow fruit. “We only left the palace once.”

He can feel the hybrid’s gaze on him as his nail prick at the pear’s flesh. This is more unnerving than he anticipated. Every word leaving his mouth feels like a dangerous spark that could ignite the situation and reduce to ashes all his efforts.

“And I realized it must feel a little claustrophobic for you…” he continues, knowing this was a risky part of his monologue.

But really, as long as it had taken Jongin to realize it, he, out of everyone, can understand this. He feels prisoner too, even if his own shackles take the form of a crown he is forced to wear proudly, the embroidered four-clawed dragon on his gonryongpo keeping him chained to a future throne he never wanted.

When no growl troubles the silence, he nods to himself, the absence of bad reaction giving him a small boost of confidence for what comes next.

“So I thought...maybe we could go out for a day. They just finished training the hounds, and they wanted to take them on a real hunting trip.”

Admittedly, this is not exactly true, but the white lie was supposed to give him an excuse for his offer.

“I’m planning to go with them. And since you… I mean, before arriving here… You were…”

It’s embarrassing to stutter like that, but Jongin had the terrible idea to glance up and found himself pinned under the hybrid’s intense stare.

“I wondered if, you know, maybe you...would like to join us?”

Silence replies to him once more, bringing back the nervousness.

“You don’t have to, of course!” he says before licking his lips. “I just thought you might like it. You’d be free to move around, I told them I trust you not to run away,” he adds, gulping when a slight frown makes its way on Kyungsoo’s brows.

Seohyun was right. He has been expecting his actions to earn the hybrid’s trust, without realizing that, perhaps, Jongin first needs to show the other that he trusts him; that he respects his feeling, and that he has a choice, sometimes.

The absence of response is nerve-wracking. Jongin can’t remember being so on edge since the night he met Kyungsoo. His leg is bouncing as he waits, wiping his clammy hands on his thighs. He is so focused on mentally going through every word he just pronounced, wondering if any could have been misinterpreted, that he can’t help but flinch when the hybrid’s low voice resounds in the room.

“I have my own clothes?”

Flicking his head back up, Jongin blinks at him, wondering if he just imagined the interrogating inflection the end of his sentence took. When he realizes Kyungsoo is _waiting_ , his mind blanks.

It was an actual question, that required an actual answer.

He is having a _conversation_ with the hybrid.

“My clothes,” Kyungsoo repeats, growing impatient when Jongin takes too long to reply. “I not hunt in this.”

As he speaks, the tip of his fingers grabs the delicate fabric of the tunic Jongin had gotten made for him, and lift it a bit away from his skin, scrunching his nose as if it was an old, moldy rag.

Far from taking offense at the repulsed look on Kyungsoo’s face, Jongin barely holds back the happy laughter bubbling in his throat.

“Of course!” he blurts, so suddenly it makes the snow leopard flinch. “Yes! I’ll- I’ll ask them, I’m sure they kept them somewhere!”

He can see Kyungsoo is weirded out by his enthusiasm. He can’t blame him, really; Jongin has been so nervous all night, it must be puzzling to see his demeanor change so abruptly.

The hybrid has yet to give him a final answer, though, so Jongin tries to keep his excitement from stretching his lips in a broad smile, and wills himself to wait patiently.

Kyungsoo does look like he is considering the offer, which must be a good sign. But seconds pass, agonizingly slow, and Jongin’s hope is starting to taper, when without warning, the hybrid gives him a tentative, yet sharp nod.

Exultation would be too weak of a word to describe what Jongin feels growing in his chest at that moment. He did something right, without messing up, and Kyungsoo agreed!

Unable to stay still, he hastily stands on his feet, heart fastening.

“All right! Great!” he exclaims, nodding, smiling, scratching his nape, and licking his lips all at once. “I...uhm… We’ll be leaving at dawn, so I’ll go to sleep now. You can...uhm… I- I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Without waiting to see Kyungsoo’s reaction, Jongin shuffles away from the table and flees the room before he either embarrass himself even more or ruins everything again by letting his stupid mouth run faster than his mind.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Jongin didn’t think it was possible, yet, as he stands in the stables the next morning, his excitement seems to have increased twofold. The fact that he didn’t get much sleep surely doesn’t help. He spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, thinking over and over again about his exchange with Kyungsoo, and imagining all sorts of scenarios for the next day, each more preposterous than the last.

After only two short hours of rest, he eventually got up and dressed, before making his way to the domestics’ quarters in quest of the clothes Kyungsoo had asked for. The few servants still awake had seemed puzzled, to say the least, to hear such a peculiar demand in the middle of the night, from the Crown Prince, no less. After waiting for a moment, he had finally been handed a heavy tied cloth containing the cleaned clothes the hybrid had been wearing when he arrived at the palace and had promptly returned to his pavilion, placing the bundle in front of Kyungsoo’s door.

After that, he simply sat in his library, trying to get his thoughts to focus on something else. It didn’t work, and despite all the encouraging words he mentally chanted in a vain attempt to convince himself everything would go just fine, Jongin’s mind had still not been able to unwind.

He swiftly turns on his heels when he hears footsteps approaching, body relaxing when he sees it’s only Taeil.

“Your Highness looks anxious,” his friend teases, stopping in front of him.

“I am,” Jongin replies with a frown. “I really want this to work.”

“It will. This is a good idea,” Taeil says, just like he did when the Crown Prince explained everything. “And we’ll be there.”

Exhaling loudly, Jongin nods.

“You planned things well. And we’ll only be a few hours away from the palace, should anything happen,” he adds, clearly doing his best to reassure him. “I know you’re doing this for him, but try to enjoy it too, all right? It’s been a while since you got to go out like that.”

“I know. It’s just…”

“Stop worrying, Your Highness. Everything will be fine.”

This time, the assertive tone works a bit better, and Jongin nods again, deciding to follow his friend’s advice.

“Good. I’ll leave you two to finish getting ready, then,” he concludes, throwing a glance behind Jongin.

In a heartbeat, the Crown Prince has whirled around, eyes widening when they land on Kyungsoo.

He doesn’t know what he expected the hybrid’s clothes to look like, but had he been asked to guess, he would have been entirely wrong.

His pants are made out of tanned leather, its natural, undyed color a sign it was handmade, likely from the skin of an animal he killed once. Made from the same material, his boots, however, look worn, showing endless hours of traveling on rugged terrain. The entire outfit is so pale, perfect for blending in the mountains, between rocks and patches of snow, that it matches almost perfectly the light scars revealed by the lack of fabric on some parts of his body. It does, however, greatly contrast with the jet-black ink running under his skin, barely covered by the piece of grey and tan fur attached diagonally across his upper body and going over one shoulder down to his hipbone.   
On his arms, all over his chest, up to his neck and seemingly curling around his torso and shoulders to continue on his back, Jongin stares at the intricate design, entranced eyes tracing every line, swirl and symbol he can see, until he realizes Kyungsoo might be uncomfortable being scrutinized like this.

When he looks up at the hybrid’s face, however, he finds his eyes downcast, a frown creasing his brows as his hand reaches around his neck, as if something was missing.

Jongin licks his lips and clears his throat to prevent his nervousness from making his voice crack.

“They told me you had some...jewelry too,” he says, catching Kyungsoo’s attention, who in turn gives him an expecting look. “But they didn’t think you would need them today…”

At the crestfallen expression painting the snow leopard’s face, a tinge of guilt sparks in Jongin’s stomach. He didn’t want to lie about it, but he also doesn’t want Kyungsoo to know the domestics actually threw all of it away, grossed out by the bones and teeth the necklaces were made of. He can’t really fault them, though; he had a hard time trying not to gag when the young hybrid girl described it to him, last night.

“You don’t need them to hunt, right?” he tentatively asks.

Slowly, Kyungsoo shakes his head, still looking somewhat upset, his frown deepening.

“Is something wrong?”

“My weapons…” the hybrid replies, averting his eyes.

“Weapons?”

_That_ , Jongin had not been made aware of.

“Blades,” Kyungsoo merely clarifies, confusing the Crown Prince.

‘I didn’t know-... I mean… Don’t you...use your teeth?”

If Jongin didn’t feel stupid by the end of his question, he does now under the impassive eyes the feline lifts toward him.

“Not if we have other choice.”

“Oh…”

“It damage meat. And fur. And blood go everywhere when teeth rip out,” Kyungsoo says, pretending to claw at his throat with crooked fingers before mimicking a wrenching motion.

The words, pronounced in a completely emotionless voice, leave Jongin blinking at him as a shiver runs through his body. If the hybrid was trying to make him feel queasy, it definitely worked.

“We-...we have swords,” he says after gulping down.

“You kill rabbit with sword?”

“Uhm...I- I guess not,” he admits, trying not to picture the bloody mess it would make. “But we have bows, as well?”

When Kyungsoo stays silent, only staring at him, Jongin realizes his assumptions about the tribe’s hunting technique might have very well thwarted the entire plan. But then, the snow leopard gives him nod, which Jongin replies to with a hesitating smile.

Even if he did know about the weapons, he is pretty sure no one would have allowed Kyungsoo to go anywhere near a blade.

 

As Taeil said, it only takes them four hours to reach the kingdom’s west border, far away enough from any village for wildlife to be flourishing, even before spring has arrived. The journey had not been the easiest, since Kyungsoo categorically refused to ride with either Jongin or one of the guards, preferring to run next to the horses, yet taking care of not approaching the hound dogs.

All around, the snow is thick on the ground, dull white matching the opaque blanket of clouds hovering above the region. As he ties Daol’s reins to a tree branch, Jongin glances at Kyungsoo.

There is a small smile on his face as he stares at the snow crunching under his boots. This might be the very first time Jongin sees anything close to joy tinting his features, and despite the light flakes falling from the sky, he takes a second to praise himself for choosing this specific location after hearing winter had finally decided to grace this area with a heavy snowfall. Not only is this familiar for the snow leopard, but it will also be easier for the humans to track any prey they will encounter.

From where they stand with the two other soldiers who joined them, Taeil and Sehun are looking at him and gesturing at Kyungsoo, trying to subtly enjoin him to interact with him. They’re anything but discreet, but he decides to listen to them, nonetheless, before the hybrid notices their silly antics.

“Is the place all right?” he asks as soon as he arrives near Kyungsoo.

Eyes looking far beyond the edge of the forest near which they stopped, the hybrid nods, his ears dressed and alert, hearing things none of the humans can perceive.

“Many animals,” he says in a quiet, low voice.

Jongin watches his eyes squint as his head slightly shift to the left.

“Lynx,” the hybrid whispers. “And leopard.”

“You can tell them apart?” Jongin asks, genuinely impressed.

With another nod, Kyungsoo then looks a bit to the right, a snowflake getting caught in his short lashes until he blinks.

“Tiger.”

“Anything less...lethal?” Jongin asks with a grimace.

“Wolves,” the hybrid answers.

He might be imagining things, but Jongin is almost sure there is a teasing undertone in his voice, matching the glint in Kyungsoo’s eyes when he throws a quick glance at the Crown Prince.

“Anything with fewer teeth, perhaps?” he questions, letting a small smile curl one side of his lips.

“Frogs,” Kyungsoo replies, and this time, the mischievousness is way clearer, unmistakable.

From the corner of his eyes, the hybrid must see the way the Crown Prince looks at him, with a feigned annoyed expression completely foiled by his widening grin, because despite how faint his scoff is, Jongin still hears it.

“Deers,” he eventually says, nudging his chin right ahead. “And rabbits.”

“That sounds like a safer option,” Jongin replies, rather liking the idea of not getting torn apart.

At least the bears are hibernating, he thinks, turning around to nod at the four guards waiting with near the tied horses.

After taking the leashes off the dogs, they all as one start advancing between the trees. Jongin remains by Kyungsoo’s side, trying to mimic the way walks so silently, even in the layer of snow in which his own feet are sinking.

He only came here a handful of times, not enough to remember the layout. The forest is vast, its ground expanding on both Yangkwang’s and Sinjae’s lands, with steep slopes and rock formation boarding dangerous cliffs. Denser in some parts, and with only a few clearings toward its center, it's easy to get lost in it, and the significant number of streams meandering through the woods offers very little help to find a way out.

Every now and then, however, he sees Kyungsoo pressing a hand on the trunk of a tree. It’s unlikely that he would ever need the help to balance himself, and Jongin quickly realizes he must be marking them with his scent, as he did with him, back at the market.

At some point, Kyungsoo starts progressing a little quicker, walking a bit ahead of Jongin, yet looking above his shoulder at regular intervals, as if to check the Crown Prince was still following.

Jongin’s gaze keeps trailing down to the base of his tail, eyeing the dimples on the small of his back, trying to decipher the tiny shapes tattooed in three curved lines right above. From what he can see that is not covered by the piece of fur, they intersect with the lower of the symbols seemingly running all along his spine and branch out towards his sides, going up to arch around his shoulder blades before connecting with some swirls and lines coming from his arms and chest. There are thick bands around parts of his arms, connected to each other by smaller symbols he can’t really see from this distance. Four around his left upper arm, and two on his right forearm, crossed by even more lines looking like vines wrapped from his shoulders to his wrists.

Here and there, the ink has been erased, where scars come across, some light and fully healed, other pinker and still somewhat rugged, proofs of more recent injuries.

It’s strangely mesmerizing, and Jongin earns a curious look from the hybrid when, more preoccupied with Kyungsoo’s back than his own steps, he trips on a dead branch and nearly falls. After that, he keeps his head down, focusing on where he places his feet.

He startles when a loud bark resonates in the forest, and a moment later, the five dogs take off running right ahead, signaling the start of the first chase. It doesn’t take long for them to corner the rabbit, and Jongin soon gets his first quarry of the day, shooting an arrow straight in its heart. A clean kill, just as he was taught.

As the snowfall gradually strengthens, small games follow one another; so many that two of the guards have to backtrack and return to the horses to offload their catch.

During a short meal break, Jongin notices Kyungsoo staring at the sky through the leafless branches again. He has done that many times all forenoon, and when a quick glance up shows Jongin heavier clouds than when they arrived, he wonders if they perhaps should head back home before the snow becomes even worse.

Yet, a short moment after, they resume the hunt, venturing even deeper in the white forest. He has no idea where they are but doesn’t get the chance to ask, when he sees Kyungsoo still, ears perked up toward something on their left. The hounds don’t seem to have caught neither the smell nor the sound of whatever it is, so Jongin remains silent. He has been waiting all morning to finally witness this; he doesn’t want the howling dogs to ruin it.

When the hybrid starts quietly treading away, Jongin gestures at the guards to stay put before following him. With steps as light as he can, he walks a few meters behind, watching as Kyungsoo pauses to attentively listen every now and then, before slightly shifting the direction he continues on.

Finally, after long minutes, the feline comes to a standstill and crouches. Afraid of disturbing the chase, Jongin gets down as well and observes him.

He has never seen Kyungsoo so focused, yet so excited. He is so immobile that he doesn’t even seem to be breathing, entire body tensed and ready to lunge forward as heavy snowflakes soundlessly land on his skin.

This is what a real hunter looks like, Jongin thinks. He has the grace of a predator, a killer who knows he can take his sweet time, because his prey won’t live, no matter how hard it tries to escape.

Whatever it is, the poor thing doesn’t stand a chance, and for a second, Jongin almost feels bad for the animal about to meet its demise. His attention is, however, captured back by Kyungsoo’s sudden movement, and he can only stare in awe as the hybrid leaps, his strong legs extending and propelling him farther than what Jongin could have ever imagined. He doesn’t even make a sound as he pierces through thick, high bushes, and Jongin only knows he caught his prey when the gruesome crack of bones turns a distressed shriek in the gurgling noise of an animal drowning in its own blood.

The sound is sickening, and Jongin feels his stomach heave, shutting his eyes and gritting his teeth as he waits for his gagging to subside. The shiver rising goosebumps on his skin has very little to do with the frozen crystals rapidly piling on his clothes.

When his breathing has returned to normal, he looks up to see Kyungsoo coming back toward him, dragging a large deer by its antlers. There is blood _everywhere_ ; covering the animal’s neck, splashed on the hybrid’s face and dripping from his chin to his chest, soaking the fur tied around his torso.

His face must show how nauseous he feels, because Kyungsoo releases his grips, letting the deer’s head flop down in the snow as he looks at him.

“I tell you before,” he says in a detached voice.

Jongin is still gulping down, stomach jerking as he does his best not to look at the ruminant’s dead eyes staring at him.

“You did,” he replies, throat burning as he heavily gulps down to get rid of the acrid taste in his mouth. “Was it really necessary, though? Did you _really_ have to rip its throat?”

“No.”

There is defiance in his eyes, and Jongin understands he is the reason for the bloody mess. He heard the deer’s neck break; this should have been enough to kill it fast. Kyungsoo just decided to teach him a lesson, to let him know he shouldn’t be underestimated. To show him that, no matter how much Jongin will try to subdue him, he will remain an apex predator, and no amount of effort and kindness will ever change that.

Kyungsoo’s eyes are still locked in his when the guards scurry behind Jongin, the dogs instantly rushing to sniff at the cervidae.

“Ha!” one of the men loudly exclaims, approaching the dead animal and probing its paw with his boot. “Look at that! It’s better than a herd of hound dogs!” he laughs, looking at his comrades as he points at Kyungsoo, who in turn glares at him.

The derogatory connotation doesn’t sit well in Jongin’s mind, and he frowns at the man, standing up from his crouching position.

“Bring it back to the horses,” he orders in a sharp tone. “Now.”

The man’s expression changes instantly, and he quickly bows, before taking hold of the antlers.

“Go with him,” he tells the other soldier, whose name he doesn’t remember. “I’ll help _him_ clean up, then we’ll catch up with you,” he declares, emphasizing the pronouns to make it clear he did not appreciate how the other man referred to Kyungsoo.

It’s at least a five-hour-walk to reach the edge of the forest, and he knows that the sun will be set by the time they get there.

Even though the relentless snow should keep the predators at bay, dragging a carcass through the woods remains potentially dangerous, and with the fast falling night, they’ll need the dogs to warn them, should any threat come their way.

 “Take some of the hounds,” he adds in a slightly calmer voice.

When they’ve disappeared through the white veil, he turns toward Taeil and Sehun, who remained silent throughout the entire exchange.

“Let’s find a stream so that he can wash up.”

Adjusting his quiver and bow around his torso, Jongin starts walking without waiting for an answer.

It takes them a little while before they eventually find a small brook. Its surface is frozen, but with the help of a rock, Sehun manages to break the ice and open a hole big enough for Kyungsoo to scoop water from. He doesn’t seem to mind how cold it is, judging by the careless way he splashes it on his face and chest, the liquid turning ruby as it drips on the snow before his knees.

“We should hurry back,” Taeil says as the hybrid is leisurely rubbing the few red stains on his tail. “The snow is still getting worse. I don’t want us to get stuck in here.”

Jongin nods, realizing he can barely see the man, who yet only stands two meters away.

“Are you done?” he asks Kyungsoo, trying not to sound too pressing despite the urgency.

As an answer, the hybrid stands back on his feet and lifts once again his eyes toward the sky.

“Storm,” he merely says, before turning toward the three others and patiently waiting, as if this was by no means alarming.

For him, it’s probably not.

They progress slowly, fighting against the frontal wind. The two soldiers are clearly on edge, walking right by Jongin’s sides, their sword in hand. He recognizes that behavior; they’re not his friends anymore, but his personal guards, ready to defend their prince against any threat, should it cost them their lives.

And Jongin would be berating himself for deciding to only take his bow, leaving his own sword strapped on Daol’s saddle, had he not been busy glancing back so often to make sure Kyungsoo is still following them.

“We won’t make it!” Sehun screams at some point, needing to shout to be heard through the hurling wind. “We need to find shelter!”

Shivering convulsively, Jongin agrees in a yell before they angle their route toward what, through the snow curtain, looks like a heap of massive jagged boulders partially hidden between trees and shrubs. He has no recollection of passing by this formation in the morning, but If they’re lucky, they’ll find a natural alcove carved in the rocks to protect them from the raging elements.

The dogs are whimpering, impeding their steps as they try to stay close. They’re terrified, and by reflex, Jongin turns around once more to check on the hybrid.

That’s when it happens, too fast for him to understand.

One second, the snow leopard is locking eyes with him, and the next he is crouched, ears flattened back and tail bristling as a chilling hiss escapes his bared-teeth mouth. Instantly, the dogs start howling, backing away and bumping into the three men’s legs. Taeil topples first, right beside him, accidentally dragging Sehun down with him. But the sound of the youngest’s head hitting a stone gets covered by a gasp. Jongin’s own, when one of the dogs scurries behind him, and he feels his feet trip on the hound’s leg, making him stumble a few steps back as he tries to regain his balance on the slippery ground. The last thing he sees is Kyungsoo’s back, already far away, the ink under his skin fading in the white world, before Jongin falls over the edge of the steep precipice none of them had even seen.

He lands on his side, sinking in the snow with a pained moan. Catching his breath after getting all the air expelled out of his lungs by the impact, Winded, Jongin looks up where he stood a few seconds before. He thinks he hears Taeil’s voice screaming, calling out for help maybe, but he can’t be sure with the wind whistling against his ears.

With a grunt, he pushes himself in a sitting position, trying to assess the damages on his body. The snow thankfully cushioned the landing, but his shoulder, arm, and hip still took the brunt of the fall. He thinks he felt a slight crack coming from somewhere low on his rib cage, but it could’ve been worse. Had he fallen on his back, his quiver and bow might have been crushed under his weight and severely hurt him.

Knowing he needs to make his way back up, at least to make sure his two friends are all right, Jongin slowly rises on his feet and stumbles toward the rock wall. Taeil must be terrified, with Sehun – likely unconscious – lying on the ground, and no sign of Jongin next to them.

Images of Kyungsoo’s silhouette vanishing in the distance as he runs away flash in his mind, soon followed by memories of him glancing at the sky so many times throughout the day. Of course the hybrid’s enhanced senses had felt the storm coming. He might have even had planned his escape the moment they arrived.

Jongin can’t believe he had been so stupid and so blind. He should have never listened to Seohyun.

The cliff is not that high, four meters at most, but he quickly realizes he won’t be able to climb up; even if the rocks were not slippery from the snow, his right side still wouldn’t allow him to pull himself up enough to reach the ledge.

So he starts walking along, one hand on the rock, both to get something to lean on and in the hope to find a way up.

His clothes are soaking wet, icy water going through all the layers and sticking them to his freezing skin, making his body violently shiver. Numb fingers trailing on the rough surface, he keeps going, fighting against the wind pushing him against the wall. Snow-covered branches and rocks keep making him trip, falling on all fours, and he has to use more and more of his depleting energy to get up each time. There are noises all around him, cracks and deep rumbles mingling with the squalls, but he refuses to think of what could be lurking beyond the opaque cloak the snowflakes are creating in the air. He cannot afford fear to have any power on him, not when his hope is already ebbing away.

He doesn’t know for how long he walks, and at some point, packed trees laced with thorny bushes force him to move away from the cliff wall, venturing in darker, denser parts of the forest, completely blinded by the blustering storm, thick clouds blocking the waning crescent moon’s light. He can feel himself getting weaker by the minute. The fall and the pain at every inspiration he takes, the battle against the elements, the worry for his two friends, and the feeling of betrayal still creeping in his mind at the thought of Kyungsoo; it all feels too much.

Until eventually, after landing yet again on the ground, Jongin doesn’t get back up.

He stays there, knees sunken deep into the snow and head hanging low.

He can barely feel his skin anymore. The cold stopped burning hours ago as numbness took over.

How foolish he had been. There is no one left to blame but himself.

Let the predators come and get him. Maybe they will finally give him the freedom he has been dreaming of for so long.

As if drawn by Jongin’s sinister thoughts, a growl pierces the howl of the wind. Whatever it is, it’s large, and it’s near, a few meters ahead, at most.

Jongin closes his eyes, body relaxing as he awaits. The pain and exhaustion will soon go away. And with a little luck, the animal will make it quick.

Another growl reaches his ears, from right behind him. His mother’s smile appears behind his eyelids, and a grin blooms on his own lips. He will finally be with her again.

The pain is striking when something digs simultaneously in the front and back of his shoulder, ripping a cry out of his mouth as he gets yanked back and brutally propelled away. He waits for claws and teeth to tear him apart, but after agonizingly long seconds, nothing comes.

With a sad smile, his mother vanishes, and a sob gets stuck in his chest right before he suddenly registers snarls and screeches. Lying on his side, Jongin lifts his head to look around in confusion. Through the blizzard, he can only make out two silhouettes a few meters away, relentlessly colliding in a tumult of ferocious sounds.

When one of the two animals lets out a yelp and flops on the ground, barely moving, Jongin’s survival instinct seems to kick in. Body completely numb, he tries to shuffle back, but ends up grabbing the attention of the second beast, which swiftly turns around. Fear is coursing through Jongin’s veins when he sees it start to make its way over to him, leaving the dying animal behind.

Jongin’s feet are sliding in his vain attempt to get away, and he feels his body freezing from the inside when the creature suddenly raises on its back legs, standing tall and imposing. Heartbeat thumping against his eardrums, he can’t be sure if the pathetic whines he hears are from himself or from the agonizing creature, whose blood is slowly spreading, soaking the snow like a drop of red ink splashed on _hanji_.

The beast is staring at him through the flake curtain, perhaps waiting to see if Jongin is going to try to escape.

He is the prey, this time. The reward for winning the fight.

Something is off, though. Jongin has never heard of any animals able to walk on two legs, let alone with such ease and grace. Yet, the beast resumes making its way toward him, back straight and resolute steps.

The creature is only a mere meter away when Jongin sees them: the black lines, intricately waving between the symbol on each collarbone, standing out more and more against the pale skin as the hybrid closes the distance between them.

Silver hair flying around his face, Kyungsoo looks down at him with the serenity of those who know no fear. The blood covering his hands is dripping, and Jongin can almost taste the metallic smell on his tongue when a gust of wind blows it his way.

He feels dizzy, petrified by terror, forced to close his eyes as his heart jumps in his throat. He can’t believe this is how it’s all going to end. Yet, deep down, he knows he should have seen it coming. Given the opportunity, it should have been obvious Kyungsoo would seek revenge on the people who tore him away from his tribe and kept him captive. He would likely prefer for the King to be lying at his feet, but as his abductor’s son, Jongin will surely be enough to quench his thirst for vengeance.

One step, then another. Eyes still shut, Jongin feels the snow shift next to him, where Kyungsoo stops, the tip of a boot grazing the Crown Prince’s hip.

He wonders what they’ll say at the palace when his death will be reported.

Seohyun will be sad, and so will Yeonjoo. Jongdae might be too, despite all the resentment Jongin never bothered hiding.

His father will be devastated. Not so much for the loss of his son as for the loss of the heir to the throne.

Whether they find Jongin’s body or not, the King will blame the snow leopard, and order his entire tribe to be annihilated. He will consequently lose the northern villagers’ trust, and slowly, everyone else’s. His authority and judgment will be questioned, then soon invalidated. And with no successor to save it from its decline, the kingdom will be doomed.

And amidst the downfall, not once will his father realize none of this would have happened, had he not brought the hybrid to the palace.

Something grabs the front of his soaked hanbok as fingers curl around his upper arm, and Jongin squeezes his eyes tighter. His mother’s face flashes once again amongst the black dots dancing behind his eyelids, right before the hybrid yanks him off the ground, as if he weighed no more than a rag doll abandoned in a puddle.

He can feel the feline’s burning breath on his neck. He can probably see the vein hammering under the skin, inviting, taunting. He might even smell the fear coursing in his blood, paralyzing him.

For a moment, everything stills and all Jongin can focus on is the constant whack of his heart inside his rib cage and the hot puffs against his throat.

He doesn’t know what the snow leopard is waiting for; he has the Crown Prince at his mercy, unable to move, held captive by the firm grip. Perhaps is he reveling in the delight of finally ending him, trying to decide how to make his death as slow and excruciating as possible.

But killing him right there must not be enough, because then, Jongin feels his body being hauled up, stomach soon colliding with a sturdy shoulder.

And the next moment, the feline is running.

Jolted up and down by the fast pace, Jongin keeps his eyes shut, wondering if the hybrid intends on bringing him back to his tribe as a trophy. After long minutes, though, Jongin feels him slow down, right before the brightness beyond his eyelids gets dimmer. Confusion mingles with fear when the feline places him back on the ground, dried pine needles cracking under his weight, lightly poking his skin through his soaked clothes.

Eyes fluttering open, he only has the time to realize he is under a low overhang rock before a warm body is pressing against his back, protecting him even further from the wind and the ice crystals falling from the sky.

His mind is a jumbled mess, trying to make sense of the arm curling around his upper body, the hot breath hitting the side of his face, and the tail wrapping around his lower stomach. He doesn’t understand why he suddenly feels warmer, shielded from the elements by the hybrid’s frame.

The hold tightens when a violent shiver rattles Jongin’s entire body, teeth chattering and muscles cramping. He starts closing his eyes, only to be startled by a faint growl.

“Not sleep.”

The words are barely audible through the howling wind, and Jongin would have not heard them, had Kyungsoo’s lips not been right against his ear.

The hybrid shuffles even closer, now half hovering above him, fingers folded around Jongin’s arm to keep it against his chest. The blood has been washed away by the relentless snow, so Jongin cannot stop his eyes from widening when a ruby pearl suddenly crashes on the pine needles, right in front of his face. His neck is too stiff for him to turn his head, but from the corner of his vision, he sees a second drop falling from where the feline’s cheek should be.

“You’re bleeding,” he whispers, unable to talk any louder.

An intake of frosty air, then a slow exhale, hot breath fanning against Jongin’s temple.

“I am fine,” Kyungsoo replies in a low voice. “Not worry about me.”

Jongin still doesn’t understand what is happening. A moment ago, he was certain to die, to be the ultimate price satiating the hunger for revenge eating the snow leopard away.

Yet, he now lies on his unharmed side, Kyungsoo’s body sheltering him, keeping him warm.

Keeping him safe.

Slowly, his heartbeat slows down, breathing synchronizing with Kyungsoo’s calm, deep one.

“You left,” he murmurs a while later, remembering how he felt, seeing the hybrid vanish through the blizzard.

“Yes.”

“Why did you come back?”

He gets no other response than the whistling of the wind.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Birds are chirping all around as Jongin remains still.

He has exhausted all possible subjects he could have told her about, and he’s now simply enjoying the sounds of nature slowly waking up after the harsh late winter their kingdom went through.

Two weeks have passed already since they came back from that disastrous hunting journey. Like a flock of birds, people had converged toward their group as soon as they stepped through the West Gates, worry dripping from each of their faces at the sight of their beaten state.

Sehun was half-carried by Taeil and one of the two other soldiers, too weak to stand on his own, while the remaining guard was trying to handle the still agitated dogs and horses all at once.

Behind them, the domestics had been surprised to find Jongin, heavily leaning on the snow leopard, whose arm was curled around the Crown Prince’s waist to prevent him from collapsing.

He can’t really blame them. Even two weeks later, Jongin is still not sure what exactly happened, that day.

He remembers the warmth and the smell of pine. He remembers red blood and black ink in a white world. He remembers the howl of the wind and the faint rumble against his back when Kyungsoo started purring. Yeonjoo told him once that cats tend to do this because the lower vibrations are a sort of healing mechanism, but he doesn’t know if the hybrid was trying to relieve his own pain, or Jongin’s.

Considering the way it increasingly deepened every time Jongin would shiver, maybe it was also a way to reassure him that he wouldn’t leave.   
Or so Jongin wants to believe.

The blizzard ended up subsiding long hours later, and as the sun rose, its beams had painted the air golden in their temporary shelter. Without a word, Kyungsoo had detached himself from Jongin, before helping him up, with slow and careful movements. Just as quietly, he had passed Jongin’s uninjured arm around his shoulders, and wrapped his own behind his back, supporting him as they began walking.

Kyungsoo found the guards quite easily, of course. And yet, when Taeil reached out toward Jongin to take over on the responsibility of carrying him, Kyungsoo had quickly shaken his head, pulling him ever so slightly closer. Jongin thinks he heard the beginning of a growl rumbling against his side, from the depth of Kyungsoo’s chest, but considering how confused he was back then, he can’t be sure it wasn’t only a figment of his imagination.

They haven’t talked about it since they came back.

Or talked at all, really. But when they do, the few words exchanged systematically leave Jongin with a weird feeling coating his insides. Because it always comes with a glance toward Kyungsoo, which in turn, always has a heavy consequence.

Looking at his face means acknowledging the new scar marring his cheek, crossing the two already existing ones. And in turn, this implies having to admit to himself that Kyungsoo fought that animal to _save_ him.

He has been struggling to understand why the hybrid protected him from the storm, but thinking that he would _kill_ a living being to keep Jongin safe is something his mind cannot process.  
Kyungsoo himself had revealed that he escaped. And try as he might, Jongin still can’t fathom why the hybrid changed his mind and came back for him.

When a little yelp echoes behind him, Jongin looks above his shoulder, spotting Taeil trying to stop Daol from chewing on his hair. He keeps watching as his friend’s mare nudges the stallion’s neck, wanting to defend her owner from the impromptu attack, before eventually facing back the burial mound he has been kneeling in front of for the last few hours.

The morning dew has soaked the bottom of his gonryongpo, but he doesn’t care. Like every year, he wanted to be here at dawn, to watch the sunrise with his mother.

Calmly breathing in and out, he watches the flowers he placed on her grave slightly sway under the breeze, dancing with the swirls of smoke from the incense he lit up when he arrived. She has always loved crocuses, to the point of requesting the permission to get some seeded all over the palace gardens. Of course, the King had quickly agreed, like he always did.

Even after her death.

In Yangkwang, the tradition requires a monarch’s wife, and especially the Crown Prince’s mother, to be buried on the lands downhill of the Royal Tombs grounds. Lady Somin, however, had made the wish to spend her afterlife in her homeland, and Jongin’s father, proving once again she had always been his favorite, had complied without question.

This is why Jongin had ridden Daol for three hours in the dark, that morning.

People say it was nearly impossible to deny her anything, when she would look at you so gently, with all the kindness the world could offer dancing on her features.

Jongin can’t do anything but trust their words, with the bittersweet taste of unspoken words lingering on his lips.

He can barely recall her face. Only insignificant details, like the way her irises seemed made of liquid amber when a sunbeam would hit them at the right angle, the peachy color of her cheeks after she patted some safflower powder on them, under her son’s enthralled stare, or the shape of her thin lips when she lovingly smiled at him. Those are the only clear things he can see, when she appears behind his closed eyes, leaving the rest of her traits in a haloed blur.

He does remember her voice, though, and the inflections it would take, revealing all her emotions. She never tried to hide them. She didn’t need to. She was the King’s favorite, the Crown Prince’s mother; she was admired, but never envied, respected, but never feared.

Or this is at least how Jongin likes to think of her, despite knowing how biased he is, and how time tends to embellish memories.

Making sure the crocuses bloomed every year had become a way for him to keep her close. And every year, on the anniversary of her untimely passing, he would rise long before the sun, pluck some of her beloved flowers, and come to see her. As the sun would peek above the horizon, its light would paint the sky in golds, oranges, and reds, and Jongin could see her eyes in the clouds, and her cheeks blush in the air.

Then he would talk.

For hours, he would tell her everything crossing his mind, from the most trivial stories to the important responsibilities he had been given. Sometimes he would wait, eyes riveted on the crocuses’ petals, letting his mom ask for the breeze to make them waltz as an answer.

And when his eyes would start to burn from unshed tears, after hours and hours of blathering, Jongin would get up, give a final glance to the flowers, and pronounce the same word he did, every year.

“I’m really sorry.”

Standing in front of the mound, Jongin watches the crocuses sway, just a bit stronger, like they do every year. His mother’s way to say that it’s all right, that she understands. That she loves him anyway.

It’s not all right. But there is nothing he can do to change what happened so long ago. He can only hope to fulfill her wish someday, somehow, and pray it’ll allow him to forgive himself.

“ _You’ll have to be strong. People count on you, Jongin. You must be the king they deserve._ ”

As he heads back over to Taeil and the horses, Jongin hears, like every year, his mother’s voice breathing those words in the soft whisper of the wind.

They’re heavy in his heart. Too heavy for him to carry without her smile to help alleviate their weight.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Jongin feels drained when they finally reach the palace three hours later, as if his essence had been sucked out of his body. Visiting his mother always has that effect on him, but he doesn’t really mind. He decided, years ago, that it’s because she probably needs his energy to communicate from where she rests.

Drawing from the last remnant of his strength, he still takes the time to give Daol a few apples before asking the stable boys to groom the stallion. He usually does it himself, but at that moment, he can barely stand on his legs, and only wants to lie down in his bedroom.

With a last pat on Daol’s neck, which earns him a comforting little nudge on his shoulder, Jongin turns around and drags his feet across the stables.

He hasn't even stepped out yet, that he hears someone run toward him, right before Sehun appears from behind the doors, bowing instantly.

“Your Highness,” the guards greets him, panting.

“What’s wrong?” Jongin immediately asks with a worried frown as he watches his friend trying to catch his breath.

Sehun is rarely alarmed. It’s never a good sign when he looks distressed.

“Something happened.”

The words fall straight down Jongin’s stomach, wrenching an overwhelming cold sweat in their path and erasing any trace of exhaustion.

His mind is already flooded with images of his father lying on the ground, of Seohyun crying over Yeonjoo’s bloodied body. Even Jongdae’s lifeless frame comes in a flash amongst the others.

“Tell me,” he orders, feeling nauseous and bracing himself for the worst.

“It’s...it’s your hybrid.”

Relief washes over him as he exhales shakily. Then, he processes the words, and a shiver runs down his spine.

“Kyungsoo? What about him?”

The concern in his voice is poorly disguised, but Sehun doesn’t comment on it. Instead, his expression slowly turns hesitant, as if he were trying to decide if telling Jongin is the best option.

“Is something wrong?” Taeil says, appearing by the Crown Prince’s side and throwing a questioning look at his comrade.

“Sehun. What happened?”

“He...he tried to escape, Your Highness.”

“What? When?”

“Late forenoon,” Sehun replies, looking down before continuing. “We caught him right before he passed the East Gates.”

For a few seconds, Jongin stares at him, waiting to see if the guard has more to say. When he stays silent, the Crown Prince simply sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms.

“Have you informed my father?” he asks in a weary voice, the tiredness coming back like a whiplash.

“Not yet. His Majesty has been busy since early morning.”

“Good,” Jongin nods. “Don’t tell him.”

“But-”

“Where is he?” he demands, interrupting Sehun’s protest.

“In...in the Throne Hall, I believe.”

“Not my father. Where is Kyungsoo?”

“Ah, yes. We…”

The hesitation is so visible on the soldier’s face that Jongin can already predict he won’t like what comes out of his mouth next.

“You?”

“We locked him down in a cell.”

He was right; he doesn’t like it. But he also knows Sehun, and his friend wouldn’t have done that, had it not been necessary. So he sighs once again, definitively forgoing the nap he was hoping for.

“Let’s go,” he says, before briefly looking at Taeil. “Make sure those who know will keep their mouth shut,” he orders, knowing Taeil will understand what he is asking.

_Threaten them if you have to_.

“Of course, Your Highness.”

 

“Has he said anything?” Jongin inquires as he and Sehun walk toward the guards’ quarters.

“No. Not a word. Only growls and snarls,” Sehun replies. “But he wouldn’t let himself be caught. Five of us were needed to bring him in the cell.”

Anything but surprised, Jongin hums. They remain silent until they reach their destination. He lets Sehun open the door and walk in first, across the room and down a gloomy staircase leading underground. Nose scrunching at the moldy stench floating in the air, he tries not to look at the few prisoners they pass by, already able to guess where Kyungsoo is kept by the lone guard posted in front of the farthest cell.

When they finally stop, Jongin chances a glance inside, feeling his chest tighten when he sees Kyungsoo seated in a corner, restricting tethers linking all his limbs, as well as his collar, to a big metal ring fastened in the stone wall.

He knows the hybrid heard them, yet, not even his ears perk up as he stares at the ground.

“Open the cell,” Jongin orders the soldier, voice veiled with irritation.

Despite Kyungsoo’s strength and how much he fought to escape, he highly doubts tying him like this was really necessary.

Bowing a few times, the guard rushes in front of the cell door, forcing Sehun to step away. The set of keys clatters as he fumbles with the large padlock until eventually, he pulls on the door’s wooden bars.

Teeth gritted, Jongin snatches the keys from his hand, before turning away from him and facing the entrance.

“Leave us.”

The command is clear, both for the guard and for Sehun, and soon, he hears them climbing the stairs up.

Kyungsoo is still immobile when Jongin steps in, the straw covering the dirt floor loudly crunching under his boots. The sight in front of him erases all trace of annoyance, and he feels his shoulders drop as his stomach stirs.

Wrists and ankles secured in heavy shackles, the tangle of chains he probably made himself by trying to break free seems to be completely restricting his arms in an awkward, and likely painful position. The tension is even pulling on his collar, leather digging into the side of his neck. Yet, his back is straight against the wall, as if he still refused to show any sign of weakness, despite being barely able to move.

Slowly, like he would with a cat he doesn’t want to scare off, Jongin crouches in front of the snow leopard and reaches out to unlock the ankle and wrist shackles. Kyungsoo remains entirely still as he untangles the chains, and drops them on the ground next to him. His fingers graze the skin of the feline’s neck as he unlocks and removes the collar, and he sighs, feeling how cold he is.

Even now, Kyungsoo still doesn’t move, and before he can think further about it, the words leave Jongin’s mouth on their own accord, as if his mind needed to voice the turmoil of his thought in order to make sense of it.

“I don’t understand you.”

There is no faulting undertone in his voice. It’s merely a statement, showing how baffled he is.

“You… You escaped, back then. You said it yourself,” he continues, eyes staring down at his fingers fidgeting with the collar. “But you came back… You came back, and you helped me.”

Frustrated by his own confusion, he tosses the collar on top of the chains, rubbing his eyes with a tired exhale.

When he finally looks at Kyungsoo, he realizes the hybrid is already staring at him, face impassive. Even in the dim glow of the torches, the healing scar on his cheek stands out.

Jongin gulps, feeling his eyes burn from the mix of exhaustion, frustration, and something else he doesn’t even know how to name.

“I don’t understand,” he breathes, voice quivering. “Why did you came back, if you were going to try to escape again?”

He receives no answer, but when he eventually stands, Kyungsoo does the same, a visible stiffness in his body, and follows silently as they walk back to the Crown Prince’s pavilion.

Jongin doesn’t eat that night, but he does ask Hoseong to bring dinner to Kyungsoo in the hybrid’s room. And when he falls asleep, his mother’s amber eyes are sadly looking down at him.


	5. Chapter 5

The palace is buzzing, two days later. Everywhere Jongin goes, he hears excited whispers and sees beaming faces. It’s always like that at this time of the year, when every domestic gets the afternoon and night off, with the authorization to leave the palace and travel to Cheokgil for the vernal equinox festival.

He would gladly share their enthusiasm, had he been allowed to go. But he never had since his mother’s death, and after a few years, he grew tired of asking his father only to be immediately shut down.

“It is a big event,” the King had said when Jongin was fourteen. “They expect you to be there. This would be too good of an opportunity for ill-intentioned people to harm the heir to the throne. And I cannot take that risk. I hope you understand.”

Of course, Jongin did, and he still does. But recognizing it doesn’t erase the bittersweet feeling from his mind. It’s even worse this year, and he has been sulking all morning after Yeonjoo gave him a long and passionate speech about everything she plans on doing for her first time at the festival. Seohyun had to force the little girl to leave him alone when she saw the deep scowl on his face as he glared at the ground.

He knows his sister and niece risk very little, going there. Albeit part of the royal family, as women, their deaths would have close to no impact on the kingdom or the Crown. It would be useless for the insurgents to target them. Jongin is not even sure his father would do anything if they were abducted.

Seohyun and Yonghwa were delighted to have a daughter, but sometimes, when he sees the concerned looks his sister gives to Yeonjoo, Jongin wonders if she wouldn’t have preferred to birth a son.  
Had his niece been a boy, he would have been next in succession to the throne, should anything happen to Jongin before he had a son himself. He never asked, however, because he was afraid she would confirm. And having to explain to her that the weight of this crown is not something she should ever wish for her child, even if it meant they would be valued much more, would only be yet another reminder of the invisible tether holding him prisoner.

He knows what kind of look she would send him, and Jongin never liked to be pitied.

 

Neither Hoseong nor his court ladies are there when Jongin exits his private library, so he heads toward the palace kitchens, a silent Kyungsoo trailing behind him. His stomach has been growling for the past hour, earning a few glances from the hybrid, but no one has come to bring his midday meal. After realizing that they, too, had been given a pass to go to the festival, he had closed his book and undertaken the task of feeding himself. He just hopes some of the cooks are still there. Maybe they have some meat for Kyungsoo, as well.

The snow leopard hasn’t said a word since Jongin has gotten him out of the cell. Not that it really surprises him, but the Crown Prince is tired of the constant frustration the hybrid had made him feel since they met.

Despite the two recent escape attempts, Jongin is not mad at him. He is not sure why, though. Logic would want him to be.   
Except, a part of him also wants the fact that he protected him to carry more weight in the balance. It doesn’t make much sense, even to Jongin himself, but nothing really ever does when it comes to Kyungsoo. Even less lately. He seems to be an even bigger mystery than when he arrived.

Jongin doesn’t come that often in the kitchens, but the rare times he did, the place was swarming with hybrids and court ladies preparing dishes, moving food here and there, and lively chatting and laughing. Of course, as soon as he stepped in, the conversations died, as they always do wherever he goes. But the contrast remains striking when he enters the large room, only to find a handful of hybrids scattered around.

All at once, their eyes converged toward him, and his body reacts on reflex, from a lifetime of practice. He is not Kim Jongin anymore; he is the Crown Prince, here to demand, and expecting to be obeyed.

It doesn’t take long before a tray full of various dishes is presented in front of him. The Siberian husky girl, however, is not looking at Jongin.

There is no reason for him to be surprised when he sees her handing the tray to Kyungsoo, whom Jongin had completely forgotten was there. Of course, she wouldn’t make the Crown Prince carry food around the palace. Yet, he can’t help but be taken aback when Kyungsoo actually takes a step forward and grabs the tray without a word, eyes downcast, before backing away again.

The little nod Jongin offers the hybrid girl is unusual enough for her to start bowing repeatedly, eyes widened in shock as she spouts unintelligible words, and embarrassed, he clears his throat before hastily strides out of the kitchens.

The weather is nice, that day. The breeze carries out a floral fragrance, and his steps instinctively bring him in the gardens, where he ends up sitting on a secluded bench surrounded by magnolia shrubs already in full bloom.

“Let’s eat here,” he tells Kyungsoo, before noticing the hybrid’s scrunched nose. “Unless… Does the smell bother you?” he asks, giving a quick glance at the magnolias before looking back at him.

As sole answer, the hybrid places the tray on the bench right next to Jongin and takes a step back. With a sigh, the Crown Prince grabs the pair of chopstick, staring at his fingers as he fiddles with them.

“You can sit, you know? No one is going to say anything,” he says in a low voice. “They’re all too busy to care.”

In his peripheral vision, he sees Kyungsoo’s feet shuffle ever so slightly.

“You haven’t eaten either,” he continues, eyes flicking up toward the hybrid’s face.

He is staring at the tray.

“She put some _pyeonyuk_ in here. You liked it last time, right?” Jongin asks, offering him a small smile. “Come on, sit with me. Please.”

Kyungsoo is visibly hesitating, eyes flitting between the free spot on the left side of the bench, the tray, and the ground. But after a minute, and despite the slight frown on his face, he eventually complies.

“Here,” Jongin says, holding the chopstick for Kyungsoo to take. “I can use the spoon.”

The hybrid eyes the gold utensils for long seconds, before tentatively reaching out. Jongin is not sure if he is afraid to touch the precious metal or to accept something from him, but he knows he won’t get any answer if asked. So he simply grabs the spoon and scoops some rice that he slowly chews.

The reason for Kyungsoo’s hesitation quickly reveals itself, however, and Jongin mentally chastises himself when he sees the hybrid fumbling with the chopstick as he tries to pick a slice of meat. He never gave a thought about the fact that, maybe, he doesn’t _know_ how to use them. It’s too late to swap the utensils, though, so he does his best not to look at Kyungsoo’s hands, not wanting him to feel observed and judged for his lack of etiquette skills.

After his fifth irritated sigh, the hybrid ends up picking up the insubordinate slice with his fingers, before dropping it on top of the chopsticks and carefully bringing it to his mouth. The technique is rather peculiar, reminding him of Yeonjoo a couple of years back, and Jongin has to shove more rice than necessary in his mouth to hide his smile.

They remain silent as they eat, enveloped by the gentle breeze whispering against the magnolias’ petals. It’s soothing, and Jongin finds himself enjoying the quietude, letting his eyes roam around, longingly smiling when he spots a lone crocus on the edge of the footway meandering through the gardens. Growing under the shade of a Japanese painted fern, the purple flower looks forlorn, so far away from its congeners, and Jongin wonders if, given a choice, it would prefer to be with its peers.

The parallel is not lost on him, and he chances a glance toward the hybrid, despite knowing he cannot possibly know where his thoughts have wandered. When he sees him staring at two court ladies excitedly chattering as they walk away, all dolled up in colorful hanboks, he swallows his mouthful and licks his lips.

“They’re going at the vernal equinox festival, in Cheokgil,” he says, not sure if Kyungsoo heard about it.

Hoseong has mentioned it earlier that morning, but mainly to explain he would meet his father and brother there, whom he hasn’t seen in almost a year, so the hybrid might still not be aware of what this is all about.

“We also call it the lanterns festival. It’s a big celebration, with a lot of activities,” Jongin describes, watching the two women giggles. “I remember seeing a comic play once, right in the middle of the street. There’s music everywhere, and games, as well.”

Kyungsoo is not looking at him, but he can tell he’s listening by the way his left ear is oriented toward him.

“It’s really nice. I didn’t get to go since…”

He falters for a few seconds, hesitant to bring up the topic. Of course, Kyungsoo has surely noticed his mother was not around, but he’s not sure he wants to explain why, should the hybrid look curious.

“…since I was ten years old,” he finishes after clearing his throat. “There’s food too. Specialties from all around the kingdom.”

At these words, Kyungsoo visibly perks up, his head slightly turning toward Jongin as his tail twitches on the bench. And suddenly, Jongin has an idea.

“Do you want to go?” he asks as the gears start turning in his mind.

The question has the merit of finally getting the hybrid to look at him. Admittedly, he seems rather suspicious, but Jongin is getting too excited to care. So in a swift move, he turns his entire body to face the snow leopard, making him flinch away.

“All right, listen. Considering you managed to go all the way through the palace grounds to reach the East Gates, in plain daylight and without getting caught, you must obviously be good at slinking.”

So far, he has always thought about it as a bad thing, but at this moment, it could very well end up being an advantage for Jongin.

“So...what about a deal?” he says, locking eyes with the feline, who slightly squints his eyes. “I will forget your little...desertion, and I’ll tell Sehun to stop monitoring you as closely, _if_ …”

The little pause is somewhat theatrical, he knows it, but it does have the intended effect. Kyungsoo definitely looks interested, now, although he tries to hide it by keeping his expression impassive.

“...you help me sneak out of the palace, tonight, and come with me to the festival,” Jongin finishes, having a hard time containing the eagerness out of his voice. “I’m not allowed to go, but I want to.”

Narrowing his eyes a little more, Kyungsoo stares at him, seemingly contemplating the idea, and Jongin bites the inside of his cheek in anticipation.

“So what do you say?”

“He stop to follow?”

Teeth sinking further in his flesh, Jongin holds back a triumphant smile and nods.

“Yes. He’ll stop following you.”

“...No lock,” Kyungsoo adds, apparently deciding it’s the right opportunity to pose his own conditions.

He is right.

“Fine. I’ll have the padlock on your window removed,” Jongin agrees. “So? Is that a yes?”

And this time, when the snow leopard nods, Jongin doesn’t attempt to conceal his grin.

“Great! We’ll leave at sundown, then. That should give us enough time to travel to Cheokgil before the night festivities start.”

His mind is already swarming with ideas, but noticing the weirded-out look Kyungsoo is giving him, he decides to add, as an afterthought:

“You can’t try to escape again, though. I’m not supposed to go, but there will still be soldiers all around,” he warns the hybrid. “I will get scolded if I’m caught, but if you run away and they catch _you_ , you’ll be in a lot of trouble, and I won’t be able to do anything about it. Understood?”

The glare he receives was to be expected, although it lacks genuine animosity, and Jongin’s smile ends up widening when Kyungsoo eventually nods again.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Jongin’s excitement has increased tenfold by the time they leave one of Cheokgil’s stables, where he left the mare he rode that night. To avoid getting caught, besides wearing a casual hanbok, he opted for a random mount, which earned him an offended grunt from Daol when he saw Jongin pass in front of his stall pulling another horse behind him. He will have to give the stallion a few extra treats, next time he sees him.

With Kyungsoo’s help, it had been surprisingly easy to sneak out, and although he did receive exasperated looks every time the hybrid deemed his steps too loud, they had made it out in record time. He had,  once again, refused to ride with Jongin, preferring to run by his side instead, but the Crown Prince hadn’t been surprised, and merely checked every now and then to make sure he was still keeping up. He always was, of course, and Jongin never had to slow down his rather fast pace.

The town is brimming with life. Under the moonless indigo sky, the hundreds of metal lanterns lining the alleys are encasing everything in a golden halo, warming every colorful hanbok and brightening every smile.

Face shadowed by his _gat_ , the beaded strap lightly swinging with the breeze, Jongin’s grin is the widest of them all. With Kyungsoo by his side, he meanders through the elated crowd, bathing in the happiness surrounding them.

Although more reserved, the snow leopard seems just as overwhelmed, eyes shifting all around and ears twitching toward every sound. It’s obvious he has never seen anything like that.

They take their time stopping by random stalls, and Jongin secretly exults when it barely takes any coaxing for Kyungsoo to agree to taste the food he buys for them. By the fifth one, the hybrid instantly accepts the small dumpling and begins munching on it as they walk away.

He looks softer under the warm lighting, skin, fur, and hair tinted gold, like the moon when it lingers near the horizon. Even the three scars on his cheek don’t seem to stand out as much, muted by his gentle, curious expression. Jongin pretends not to notice the way he steps a bit closer, arms sometimes brushing, whenever they pass through a denser part of the crowd.

Between food tastings, they stop every now and then to watch impromptu performances, puppet shows, musicians, acrobats, or jugglers, and Jongin finds himself applauding with the folks, even after stumbling upon a caricatural play mocking _him_. He would never admit it out loud, but the chuckle bubbling up his chest might have a lot to do with the way Kyungsoo eyes him and smirks as one of the two actors walks around, chest puffed up and chin lifted way too high.

“Can you imagine?” the man then delivers, face hidden behind a ridiculous mask. “I demanded jasmine tea, and they dared to bring me dandelion instead!”

“What an outrage,” the second man, dressed as a eunuch, replies. “What is Your Greatest Divined Highness going to do?”

With a raised brow, Jongin quietly scoffs. Is this how people really envision him?

“Hang them all! I am the Crown Prince, and I will not tolerate such an affront!”

Laughter erupts all around them, and Jongin glances at the audience, his smile fading away.

Do they all genuinely believe he would ever act like this?

Of course, he knows he doesn’t come off as the most approachable person; this is how he was raised and taught to behave. But having people executed for bringing the wrong kind of tea? This is utterly ridiculous, and anything but humorous. He doesn’t even have the authority to punish real criminals.

Jongin doesn’t realize a frown has made its way on his face until he feels warm fingers curling around his elbow. Startled, his head snaps to his right, afraid that one of the guards they hid from, earlier, has spotted him. Ready to provide an excuse for his presence at the festival, the words die on his lips, eyes widening when Kyungsoo starts pulling him away from the crowd.

“W-why-…”

“Not funny,” the snow leopard replies as he keeps walking, tugging a bit more insistently on Jongin’s arm.

He eventually lets go when the sound of a gayageum has completely covered the laughter, and without looking at Jongin, Kyungsoo points at the closest stall.

“You want one?” Jongin asks, blinking at the displayed _eomuk_ , still a little confused about what just happened.

Back still facing him, Kyungsoo hums with a sharp nod, before heading over to the stall on his own.

It’s puzzling, really, to watch the snow leopard eat with a scrunched nose as they resume walking a few minutes later. He doesn’t like fish cakes; Jongin knows it since that first time they ate together, and Kyungsoo pulled a disgusted face after the first bite. Those look less refined than the ones from the palace, but the hybrid couldn’t have mistaken them for something else. Why would he ask for one despite knowing he doesn’t enjoy their taste? He doesn’t say anything, though, and eats his _eomuk_ in silence.

Half an hour passes before Jongin notices people are beginning to clear out the alleys, converging toward the big bridge in the center of the town for the main event of the night.

Spotting what he needs before joining them, he makes his way over one of the stalls selling the famous paper lanterns, getting greeted by a hybrid girl who offers him a smile before her eyes go round when she sees Kyungsoo. She is pretty, he supposes, with caramel skin glowing under the warm lights, and little brushes of hair at the tip of her feline ears. She seems too small to be part lynx, though, so he assumes she must be a Chinese desert cat hybrid. He knows, from the research he did on snow leopards, that big-cat hybrids are not that common, and rarely affordable by merchants. She does look surprised to see another feline right in front of her.

Inspecting the different lanterns, he eventually picks on a pale purple one, checking the rice paper to make sure it hasn’t been scratched or punctured. Satisfied, he places it in front of Kyungsoo, before grabbing one of the brushes near the ink set and handing it to the snow leopard.

“Here. You just have to write your wish on it,” he says, pointing at the lantern. “Be careful, though. The paper is quite fragile.”

With a frown, Kyungsoo looks at the brush between his fingers, before glancing at the nearest stall, where a man is helping a little boy tracing characters on his lantern. And it’s only when Jongin peeks at the way the feline is awkwardly holding the brush that he realizes his mistake. Considering where he grew up, it wouldn’t be surprising that the hybrid never learned how to write, or even read. He probably never needed to; in the wild, a book can do very little to help you survive. Except maybe burn, to keep you warm.

One second later, as if to confirm his suspicion, Kyungsoo has dropped the tool on the stall, and Jongin starts feeling bad. It’s the second time he has done that, today. Yet, just like with the chopsticks earlier, he doesn’t want Kyungsoo to think he is being judged. So, biting the inside of his cheek, he decides to fake unawareness to offer the hybrid an escape route.

“You don’t want to write anything?” he asks in the most serene voice he can muster.

Kyungsoo, who was previously scowling at the ground, slightly lifts his head to eye him. He is squinting, making Jongin wonder if the feline realized what he’s doing. If he does, it goes unmentioned, and Kyungsoo merely nods.

“All right,” Jongin says with a shrug. “I will, then.”

When the desert cat girl hands him the same brush, Jongin notes she’s not even looking at him. Instead, her eyes are locked on Kyungsoo’s face, seemingly fascinated.

He can’t blame her, really. Especially not tonight.

But it is quite amusing to see her delicately smoothen the fabric of her worn out hanbok along her waist and slightly push her rib cage out to emphasize her breasts, right when Kyungsoo looks back at her. She offers him a blinding smile, clearly expecting something, anything, from the snow leopard. It doesn’t last long, though, and soon, a disappointed expression paints her traits when Kyungsoo averts his eyes, face emotionless, visibly uninterested.

And he knows it’s mean, but Jongin really wants to chuckle.

Sliding the lantern in front of him, he takes a moment to think about what wish he should write down. As the Crown Prince, trivial things are out of the question, and no matter how many lanterns he sends, his deepest wish will never come true. He thinks and thinks again until he feels Kyungsoo turning around. Stealing a glance, he finds him watching the people passing by, features relaxed. The longer Jongin looks at him, the clearer his thoughts become.

Would it be possible?

Teeth sinking in his bottom lip, he turns back toward the lantern, and after nodding to himself, he dips the brush in black ink and starts carefully writing.

A few minutes later, the characters are all complete and he smiles, proud of himself. He places the brush back on the stall, before handing a few _mun_ coins to the hybrid girl, grabbing Kyungsoo’s attention.

“My master thanks you,” she chirps, placing the copper coins in a wooden box before giving them a bow. “May your wish come true!”

Her eyes are still on Kyungsoo when they walk away, but the snow leopard doesn’t seem to care, and diligently follows Jongin as he makes his way toward the bridge.

The place is crammed, buzzing with conversations and laughter. With all the soldiers roaming around, though, he decides to find them a more secluded spot, opting for an area between some cherry blossom trees, behind which they’ll be able to hide easily.

“Everyone writes a wish on their lantern,” he explains as they wait. “Then we send it flying in the sky. When the fire dies, and the lantern touches the ground, your wish comes true.”

At the sight of Kyungsoo’s raised brow, Jongin chuckles.

“Don’t look so skeptic. People take it very seriously,” he says, nudging his chin toward two teenage girls handling their lantern with the utmost care.

Most people’s lanterns are already lit up, and it doesn’t take long before a young boy walks up to them, a large candle in his hands. When he ignites the oiled parchment at the bottom of Jongin’s lantern, Kyungsoo’s animal instincts kick in, and he jerks away with a little hiss, eyes widened and teeth bared.

“It’s all right,” Jongin instantly says, as the scared boy flees. “It won’t get bigger than that, see?”

Presenting the lantern to Kyungsoo, he watches him slowly come back closer, suspicious eyes examining the rice paper expand up as the hot air fills it. The flame seems to be turning his irises to gold, and Jongin finds himself shamelessly staring, a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Do you want to hold it?” he softly offers.

The feline shakes his head, still visibly uncomfortable with the small fire.

“Together, maybe, then?”

He hesitates, hands twitching by his sides. So Jongin taps his fingertip on the metal ring at the base.

“Hold it here,” he says, doing the same on his side to illustrate. “You won’t get burned… I promise.”

The last words have an immediate effect. Eyes flickering toward him, Kyungsoo’s expression turns serious, and for long seconds, he stares at the Crown Prince, keeping their gaze locked. Thinking he might have pushed too far, Jongin is about to tell him that he doesn’t have to when slowly, the hybrid reaches out and places his fingers right where he had indicated.

Jongin’s lips remain still, but in his mind, he smiles.

Maybe the wish on his lantern already started becoming true, after all.

A wave of awed whispers starts spreading through the crowd, and Jongin sees Kyungsoo’s eyes open wide, focused behind the Crown Prince.

“Let go at three, all right?” he says, catching his attention back and earning a nod. “One… Two… Three.”

Jongin has seen Kyungsoo’s face contorted by rage and burning with anger. He has seen it scrunched in disgust and strained in concentration, full of mockery and void of emotion.

But at this moment, as he looks up at the hundreds of lanterns flying away, adorning the sky like burning stars, Jongin cannot find any trace of the snow leopard that arrived at the palace, three months before.

He looks absolutely enthralled, eyes round and plump lips slightly ajar.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Jongin asks in a whisper, reluctant to disturb him, yet unable to keep his mouth shut.

And staring at the hybrid’s profile as he nods, Jongin is not sure the question was for Kyungsoo, or for himself.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Kyungsoo is relaxed as they return to the palace. Jongin has decided to walk alongside him for the end of the journey, pulling the mare behind them instead of riding it. When the snow leopard gave him a weird look, he pretended he didn’t want to make too much noise to avoid being spotted, and thanks to the both of them stumbling upon Seohyun and Yeonjoo back in Cheokgil and nearly getting seen, the excuse had seemed to work.

It’s quiet between them, and Jongin rather likes how peaceful he feels, after spending the last two weeks being on edge. And judging by the tranquil look on Kyungsoo’s face, he must find it nice as well.

“Can I ask you something?” Jongin asks, wanting to take advantage of the opportunity.

Maybe he won’t get rebuffed right away, for once. Kyungsoo’s shrug seems like a good enough sign.

“What is the name of your tribe? I could barely find any information about it.”

When he gets no answer for a few seconds, he wonders if, like earlier in the night, he pushed too far. But then, Kyungsoo does reply.

“It not have name.”

“What? How is that possible?”

“Name things is claim it for only you,” the feline says as if it were the most evident thing ever. “Tribe is people. We not own people.”

Jongin’s steps falter, his stomach jolting uncomfortably. There is no spite in Kyungsoo’s voice; he merely answered the question as if Jongin had asked about the weather. Yet, the underlying meaning is ringing in his ears like the wind was, during the blizzard.

_He_ gave a name to the hybrid. And now knowing what it means where Kyungsoo grew up, his anger back then becomes even more understandable. By doing this, Jongin had unintentionally told him that he _owned_ him.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he steals a glance at the snow leopard, whose expression still looks unbothered.

“But...don’t parents name their child?” he asks, deciding he will have time later to berate himself for being so ignorant.

Kyungsoo shakes his head before pointing at his chest.

“We name us.”

“You name...yourselves?” Jongin says, not sure to really understand.

The hybrid nods, though, confusing him a little more.

“How does that work? At what age? You can’t possibly do that as a newborn!”

The sigh Kyungsoo lets out sounds annoyed, so Jongin averts his widened eyes, embarrassed.

“Eight years old,” he answers, nonetheless. “We decide a name. And we ask blessing from…”

At his audible hesitation, Jongin turns his head to look at him and notices the shadow of a frown floating between his brows.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

A deep breath, then an exhale, followed by a quick glance at the Crown Prince, and Kyungsoo’s lips move, letting out a series of sounds that make no sense to Jongin.

From the conversation, he can guess it might be the name of some deity the tribe worships, but he doesn’t ask; Kyungsoo already replied, despite looking uneasy about it, and Jongin doesn’t want to pry further on that and risk making him feel even more uncomfortable.

“How did your parents call you before that, then?” he asks instead.

Once again, unknown syllables made out of sounds Jongin has only ever heard coming out the snow leopard’s mouth.

“Is it...a name or a word?”

“A word.”

“Is there a Korean equivalent?”

Kyungsoo loses himself in thoughts for a moment, and Jongin’s eyes zoom on his mouth, where the tip of his tongue is poking out from. It’s clearly unconscious, but that tiny little bud coming out unannounced is rather endearing, nonetheless.

“Young with same blood?” Kyungsoo offers as a tentative translation, although he doesn’t seem entirely satisfied with it.

“So, it’s like calling you ‘son’ or ‘daughter, but without claiming ownership?” Jongin rephrases, to make sure he doesn’t misinterpret.

Looking at him, Kyungsoo nods, seemingly relieved to be correctly understood despite his approximate Korean. There’s a small smile on Jongin’s lips when he speaks again, yet it holds no joy, only remorse.

“You only belong to yourself.”

And when Kyungsoo looks back at him, dark-rimmed eyes burning with resolve as he nods again, Jongin is compelled to avert his gaze.

 

They end up almost getting caught again as they sneak around the palace buildings, and the guard would have definitely seen them, had Kyungsoo not grabbed Jongin’s arm and yanked him behind the nearest corner.

Jongin finds it curious. He has always thought felines, animals and hybrids alike, were rather individualistic, saving themselves at the expense of the others. Yet, just like during the blizzard, albeit on a much smaller scale, Kyungsoo had proven him wrong.

“Aren’t snow leopards the lone kind?” he asks as they finally climb his pavilion stairs, seemingly unable to keep his mouth shut after getting Kyungsoo to talk so much that night.

“Yes.”

“But you’re part of a tribe…”

“Yes.”

“Are you not a snow leopard?” Jongin asks, raising an eyebrow at Kyungsoo after opening the doors.

“I have fur everywhere?” the hybrid counters right away, mimicking his tone and expression with a tinge of sarcasm added in.

It takes a few seconds too long for Jongin to understand what he means, but when he does, his lips briefly twist in a pout earning an eye-roll.

Of course he’s not a snow leopard. He is only _partly_ one.

“We hunt alone,” Kyungsoo continues after a sigh, lingering in the bedrooms hallway, a couple of steps away from Jongin. “But not for only us. We always go back.”

The underlying meaning is not lost on Jongin. Kyungsoo has expressed his will to return to the tribe countless times by now, with or without words.

“Were you hunting alone?” Jongin asks, staring at his nail picking on the skin of his thumb, before feeling the feline’s eyes curiously looking at him. “When...when my father…”

He had concluded that the hybrid must have been hunting when he was captured, since he had his weapons with him, that day.

The change is immediate, the air surrounding them turning oppressive as Kyungsoo’s stare burn the side of his face.

“Not alone.”

“Who were you with?” he hesitantly asks, chancing a glance toward the hybrid, only to find him scowling at the floor.

“A friend.”

“Wh- what happened?”

Jongin has barely finished enunciating his question when he realizes that, this time, he did push too far. The glare directed at him – the first of the entire night – feels like a throwback to the first time he met Kyungsoo: scorching, terrifying, and making him flinch away.

When Kyungsoo speaks, the venom in his voice is so potent that Jongin can feel it spread in his veins, paralyzing him from within even after the hybrid has stomped in his bedroom.

“Ask your father.”

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

It’s the sound of someone clearing their throat that brings Jongin back from his jumble of thoughts. Eyes flicking up, he finds Hoseong standing in front of him, worry saturating his features.

“W-what?”

His voice sounds weak, even to his own ears, and he sees the eunuch’s frown deepen instantly.

“Your dinner… Your Highness hasn’t touched it at all,” Hoseong says, looking like he wants to rush by his side to make sure he is all right.

Glancing down, Jongin indeed finds the myriad of dishes covering the table, the swirls of steam long gone as the food went lukewarm.

When did they even bring it? How long exactly has he been spacing out?

“Oh… Yes, I… I don’t feel very hungry, tonight,” he replies, trying his best to offer a smile at the young man.

He fails miserably, judging by how distressed Hoseong now looks.

“You can take it away. Share it with your friends,” he adds as an afterthought. “Don’t let it go to waste.”

Far from helping, that last comment seems to alarm the eunuch even further, and Jongin sees him glance at Kyungsoo, in the corner of the room, as if to seek help. Following his gaze, Jongin finds the hybrid with a frown on his face, giving him an odd look.

He must really look out of it if even Kyungsoo seems concerned.

“I’m all right,” he says, turning back to Hoseong. “Only drained from today’s battle training. I’ll go to bed early.”

With these words, Jongin stands, and without a look for any of them, heads over to his bedroom.

The lie tastes bitter on his tongue as he undresses and settles on his futon.

Admittedly, training did tire him, but the weight on his shoulders that night has very little to do with physical exhaustion. It all revolves around the order given to him by his father, earlier in the afternoon.

Hoseong won’t stay worried for long, though. Someone will soon inform him about Jongin’s stay in Pyungpo.

“Two weeks,” his father had said. “This should be enough for you to discuss political matters with King Taegeun. He is young, but don’t be fooled. He did not ascend to power by being righteous. Everyone knows he had been plotting against the late King Gyeonjo for a long time. There was nothing fortuitous in his uncle’s and cousin’s deaths.”

Of course, Jongin is no stranger to the ordeal, having had many discussions about it with his preceptor, at his father’s request. The word of the accident taking the lives of both Pyungpo’s King and Crown Prince had traveled fast, and it hadn’t been hard to conclude whose handiwork it was.

Jongin had only met King Taegeun once. His name was still Byun Baekhyun, back then, long before he sat on the throne and took a more appropriate name, as it is required for every monarch. After this entire scheme, it wasn’t surprising that he chose a name entirely different from the previous king’s lineage, surely wanting to make a point of composing his own history.

Only a few years older than Jongin, he had immediately rubbed him the wrong way. Manipulative, vicious, and spiteful, the boy had not an ounce of kindness or compassion within him, even back then.

After accessing the throne, he had replaced all his ministers, ordered the execution of whoever refused to proclaim their allegiance to him – including his own mother, the late King’s younger sister – and the entire kingdom had soon fallen to the hands of this tyrant.

Jongin can’t say he had been surprised to hear he had been crowned King, two years prior, but he had never met him since. His father was always the one handling diplomatic affairs with other rulers, which is why he had been taken aback when the King announced him he would be the one traveling to Pyungo’s palace.

“I am not eternal, Jongin,” he said when his son expressed reserves about it. “One day, you will wear my crown. You need to be ready. He _will_ attempt to discredit your authority. It is your task to assert it. Do not show weakness.”

Of course, Jongin knows his father is right, and despite how little he wants to go, he will comply anyway. He always has, and always will.  
Just like Seohyun has pointed out, he would never go against the King. He respects him too much for that.

So he had nodded and bowed before seeing himself out with the excuse of informing Kyungsoo of their imminent departure.

“No,” his father had declared, startling him as he was about to exit the room. “The hybrid stays here. Your entire guard escort will join you. More than enough to assure your protection. It has become a distraction, lately. You will need to remain focused.”

“But-”

“This matter is not up for debate, Jongin. It will stay in Yangkwang.”

At that moment, the protest had almost made its way out of his chest, but under the unwavering stare, Jongin had swallowed it by reflex.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said with another bow.

But hours later, as he lies in the dark, his mind is still nagging at him. For nineteen years, he has always done what his father wanted, without complaining. His decisions and orders had always been justified, and never had Jongin even thought of questioning him, even back when he was too young to understand their importance.

Yet, today, for the first time, it was resentment he felt as he left the King’s quarters. And somehow, it had burned stronger when his eyes had met Kyungsoo's, a few minutes later, the memory of his strained voice, from the week before, still clear in his head.

_Ask your father._

 

Two brief knocks on the door reach his ears, startling him out of his thoughts. With a frown, Jongin pushes himself up on his elbow and quickly eyes the windows. The sun has set long ago; no one ever bothers him in his bedroom at this hour.

“Come in,” he says nonetheless, sitting properly and waiting for the disrupter to enter.

He can’t help the surprise to round his eyes when the panel slides open, revealing Kyungsoo’s silhouette.

Slowly, the snow leopard steps in the room, and Jongin tiredly chuckles when he notices the tray balanced on his arm.

“Is Hoseong still worrying, out there?” he asks, easily imagining the eunuch trying to find something to make him feel better.

Tea is not a bad option, he supposes.

Halting his steps, Kyungsoo looks confused at the question, and he blinks at Jongin for a few seconds, before rapidly nodding.

“He is going to give himself heartburn because of me, one day,” Jongin says, shaking his head with a little smile as he looks down.

His personal eunuch is way too caring for his own good. Jongin is not sure to deserve it.

As silent as ever, Kyungsoo approaches, and Jongin only notices him when the porcelain tea set softly tinkles as he places the tray next to the sleeping mat.

Their faces are close, way too close when Jongin looks up, and the words blurt out of his mouth before he even has the time to think about it, ringing loud in the silent room.

“I’m leaving.”

It’s undoubtedly surprise that paints Kyungsoo’s features when he looks back at him, although Jongin is not certain if it’s the result of his statement, or to find him so near. Probably a little of both. He only slightly backs away, so imperceptibly that the movement doesn’t even disturb the tea he is currently pouring in the cup.

“In a few days,” Jongin continues in a more leveled voice. “I’ll be traveling to another kingdom.”

This time, the expression on the hybrid’s face is trickier to decipher. It looks emotionless, yet, one of his eyes is slightly squinted as he stares at Jongin without replying.

“I’ll be gone for about a month, I think,” he adds, searching for something on Kyungsoo face that would help him know what he is thinking. “You… You won’t be coming.”

Surprise again. It shows in the raised brows right before it turns into a frown. Jongin looks away and sighs.

“It’s better that way,” he says, rubbing his burning eyes. “Pyungpo is located in the south-west of the country, where the weather is the warmest. I don’t think you would enjoy it.”

He had initially been bothered when his father ordered him to leave the snow leopard behind, and he still is, in a way. But thinking about it, he knows it’s for the best, although not necessarily for the reason he just gave.

“And I heard King Taegeun is not exactly...inclined to treat hybrids like living beings,” he says, words coming out right as the thoughts form in his mind. “You’re safer here. I don’t want anything happening to you.”

Jongin only realizes what he just admitted out loud when Kyungsoo’s opalescent eyes widen for a second before looking down.

He should have kept his mouth shut. Of course, Kyungsoo wouldn’t appreciate being considered weak.

“Not that you can’t defend yourself,” he backtracks with the least convincing chuckle Jongin has ever produced. “You obviously can. I mean-”

The cup of tea pushed in his hands interrupts him. The movement is a little too quick, and he quietly hisses when a drop of tea sloshes out and lands on his thumb. A second later, the pale fingers are already retreating, and Jongin looks up to find Kyungsoo scowling at the floor.

When the hybrid doesn’t say anything, though, he glances back down at the cup, squinting slightly to identify what is floating in the steaming liquid in the darkness of the room.

“Chrysanthemum?” he whispers, blinking at the little buds.

His favorite.

He never told Hoseong. The only people aware of his taste for it are his mother, and…

In a heartbeat, Kyungsoo stands and turns on his heels before marching to the doors. Jongin doesn’t stop him, not even sure what he could possibly say, at that moment.

The panel slides open, and Kyungsoo hesitates. Then, his voice echoes in the dark.

“Not eat the flowers.”

And long after, when the tea has warmed his body, and Jongin’s sleepy eyes are shut, there is still the shadow of a smile dancing on his lips.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Pyungpo is not a vast kingdom, only the second smallest one of the four dividing the country. Yet, when he arrives at the palace after riding for five days, Jongin is stricken by how luxurious it is.

The contrast is baffling after witnessing the poverty in every single village they passed through. He felt incredibly out of place when they stopped at an inn, the night before. Amongst the starving people, adults and children looking like skin and bones, his clean, high-quality clothes had seemed ostentatious.

The palace, however, is something entirely different. Spring is in full bloom, painting the gardens with thousands of vivid colors, even as the sun starts to set. Not a spot has been left unattended, from the cherry blossom meticulously placed in symmetrical patterns to the bushes precisely trimmed. Jongin even noticed a flowerbed taking the large shape of the Royal Dragon.

Nothing has been left to chance inside the palace either, and he feels his jaw go slack as his eyes roam around the Throne Hall. Decadent is the only word Jongin can come up with, and judging by the whispers he can hear behind him, his guards seem to share his opinion.

“Welcome!” a voice suddenly exclaims, tearing his attention away from the statue of a tiger seemingly made out of gold. “My dear friend, welcome!”

The term of endearment is rather far-fetched, considering they only met once when Jongin was fifteen, but he forces himself to smile back at the approaching King.

“Your Majesty,” he greets with a bow.

His grin falters, however, when his eyes catch the two female hybrids knelt on both sides of the throne. Almost naked, the sheer fabric around their hips barely reaches the top of their thighs, doing very little to cover their body or the bruises marring their skin, and Jongin’s stomach stirs when he notices the raw skin on their wrists and neck, evidence of the kind of treatment King Taegeun reserves for his _favorites_.

“I hope you’ve had a nice journey!”

“I have, Your Majesty. Thank you.”

“Good, good!” the King says with a broad smile, patting Jongin’s shoulder. “Why don’t your escort settles in the soldiers’ quarters, while I show you yours and give you a tour? I had quite a few changes made in the palace!”

Had Jongin not known him, he might have been fooled by his enthusiastic, friendly tone. But he does know him, and the way he ascended the throne, as well as the battered hybrids in the background, leave very little room for any possible trust.

Taeil must think the same, because he takes a step forward to stand by Jongin’s side, visibly reluctant to leave him alone with the King.

“Oh, don’t worry, soldier,” the Monarch chuckles. “The Crown Prince has nothing to worry about in my company.”

The tone is playful, almost offhand as if he were genuinely trying to reassure Taeil. Yet, his eyes tell another story, as does the hand now clamped around Jongin’s shoulder.

“ _Do not show weakness_ ,” his father had said.

Jongin intends on holding onto that advice.

Turning his head to look a Taeil, Jongin gives him a firm nod, ignoring the evident hesitation painting his friend’s features.

“Go,” he says, forcing his face to remain as stern as he can. “Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

It takes a few seconds, but eventually, Taeil must have seen what he needed in Jongin’s eyes.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he says with a bow, mimicked by the seven other guards. “Have a pleasant night.”

“You too.”

A minute later, they’ve disappeared outside, and Jongin turns back toward the King.

“After you, Your Majesty.”

“Excellent! Follow, now,” he says with a come-hither motion usually reserved for _animals_.

And as Jongin bows before falling into step behind the older man, he already can’t wait to return home.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

His father was right about King Taegeun. Not that Jongin hadn’t believed him; after all, his sole meeting with the man was supporting his father’s words. But it was quite impressive to see all his predictions come true.

“ _He will attempt to discredit your authority_.”

What an understatement.

For the past twelve days, Jongin has been treated like a _child_.

Not only by the King but by all his ministers as well. And if being called ‘Boy’ wasn’t enough, getting looked at as if he had no business attending political meetings has slowly worn his patience thin.

His father gave him strict directives about the matters that should be discussed. Yet, so far, every single word coming out of his mouth has been argued, some even shut down before he could finish his sentence. It’s frustrating, to say the least, and Jongin feels drained, after trying so hard to keep his composure at all times.

Raising his voice would be useless, and would only convince them even further he is nothing but a kid throwing a tantrum. Needless to say, this would be counterproductive if he wants to assert his authority.

“Are you all right?” Taeil asks as they walk in the gardens.

Looking away from the cherry blossom petals raining around us, Jongin grimaces at him.

“Do you think I’d be executed if I strangle him in his sleep?”

“The King?” Taeil asks, raising a brow. “Most likely, yes,” he chuckles.

“What about Minister Kang?” Jongin says, pretending to consider his options.

“Is it that bad?” Sehun asks from his left.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to stand another one of his comments about my father.”

“But didn’t you tell me this was also why His Majesty sent you here on his behalf?” Taeil asks.

“So that he doesn’t have to hear those remarks himself?” Jongin asks back with a scoff.

He wouldn’t usually talk so carelessly about his father, but he is growing tremendously irritated, a little more every day.

“So Your Highness can learn to handle political affairs without yet being the main target of their criticism,” Taeil says after rolling his eyes at Jongin’s question.

With a deep sigh, Jongin nods.

“I know. It’s just… They’re so infuriating!” he says, feeling helpless. “And I know some of my father’s laws are controversial, but King Taegeun… He is taxing his people way more than he should! He is making them work to exhaustion, making them starve so he can feast again and again! It’s like he doesn’t care about them at all!”

Jongin is aware he shouldn’t be talking so loud when anyone could hear him, but this feeling of injustice has been brewing in his chest since they arrived.

“And have you seen how he treats his domestics?” he exclaims, hands balling into clenched fists. “Hybrids are nothing but toys to him! Mere objects he entertains himself with, uses for his own pleasure, and then disposes of when he has gotten bored of them!”

Biting the inside of his cheek, he takes a deep breath to compose himself.

“It’s just… It feels so _wrong_.”

Jongin doesn’t know what he expected from Taeil and Sehun, but it surely wasn’t to see them with little smiles floating on their lips.

“Is this amusing to you?” he asks, puzzled by their reaction.

“Of course not,” Sehun replies right away. “But…”

“With all due respect, Your Highness, and if you allow me to speak my mind,” Taeil then says, pausing just long enough for Jongin to nod. “Until recently, you were never one to care about the way hybrids are mistreated.”

Instantly, Jongin’s baffled expression turns severe as he stares into Taeil’s eyes.

Had this come from anybody else’s mouth, Jongin would’ve likely gotten them arrested. Because he is the Crown Prince, and as his father taught him, no one is allowed to speak ill of him.

But this is Taeil, his friend, and they have known each other long enough for Jongin to know there is no malicious underlying meaning in his words. He is merely stating the facts, and Jongin can’t deny that he is right.

“I know,” he sighs, the vehemence of his rant vanishing.

“We will return home soon enough,” Sehun says in a comforting voice. “Your Highness just needs to remain patient for a few more days.”

“They’re not making it easy,” Jongin comments with a grimace.

“You can be quite perseverant, though,” Taeil says, his light-hearted tone hinting at something Jongin is not sure to understand.

“What do you mean?” he asks, suspiciously glancing at the guard.

“You got Kyungsoo to talk to you, didn’t you?” Taeil shrugs, earning a surprised look from the Crown Prince. “Despite getting off to a bad start.”

“I… I suppose, yes.”

“And he helped you,” Sehun adds. “Several times.”

“Even to sneak out and go to the lanterns festival,” Taeil says, clearly holding back a smile.

“Wh- How do you know that?”

“I saw you two, on the bridge,” Sehun says with a smirk.

“Oh…”

Jongin never really appreciates being mocked, but for once, he is more amused than irked by his friends’ teasing.

“If you can be _that_ patient with Kyungsoo, for three months,” Taeil says in a more serious voice. “Surely you can hold on for a few more days with King Taegeun.”

This is why they’re friends, Jongin thinks. With a crown on his head, it’s hard to find people genuinely caring for you, but those two always have.

They’re not only here to keep him safe. Sometimes, they keep him sane, as well.

So Jongin decides to play along, and pulls up a begrudging expression, letting out an exaggerated sigh.

“All right,” he says as if it cost him to agree. “No strangling, then.”

“Thank you,” Taeil chuckles. “That’ll make our task to protect you way easier.”

“If I lose my mind, it’s on you two.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Sehun says with a little bow.

Just a few more days, Jongin repeats in his mind, deciding to use this as a mantra.

Just a few more days, and he’ll be back home.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Four days, exactly.

It should have been two, but a heaving downpour that lasted all day long had delayed their departure. When it ceased, the sun had already started to set, and it seemed absurd to leave, only to stop a few hours later for the night.

Then, the next morning, King Taegeun had requested they stayed one more day so that he could organize a banquet in Jongin’s honor.

After three weeks away from home, Jongin had been so close from declining. But considering how testy the Monarch could be, he knew that refusing would easily be considered as an insult. So, with the most convincing smile he could muster, Jongin had agreed.

And right now, seated at the table, every single fiber of his body regrets favoring diplomacy over his feelings.

The food is excellent, of course; there is no point in denying that. Yet, Jongin’s appetite, albeit good at the beginning, has plummeted the second he saw hybrids enter the Banquet Hall. Both girls and boys, only covered by tiny pieces of expensive sheer fabric that seem to highlight the marks on their skin. Bruises, cuts, and burns, shifting from pink to red under the torches’ light as their bodies move along with the music.

Dancers, Jongin realizes when the food he ate stops fighting to come back up his throat.

Seated on his left, King Taegeun suddenly pats his thigh, leaning toward him to speak in a secretive voice.

“Let’s have some fun tonight, shall we?”

Jongin wants to vomit. The King’s lewd expression as he looks at one of the fox hybrid girls is positively repulsive.

“My dearests,” the Monarch then loudly says, opening his arms as he addresses the dancers. “Give the Crown Prince the enjoyment he deserves!”

The situation is not without reminding him of the time he shot that wasp nest. All the angered bugs had plunged toward him, and although the hybrids are much slower to make their way over to him, Jongin feels just as helpless. More, even, because he knows that, this time, he has nowhere to run.

Under the eyes of so many people, royals, bureaucrats, and nobles alike are pinning him to his seat, waiting to see how he’ll react. This is what they have done since he arrived; test him, push him to his limits, trying to get his composure to crack. And because of this, Jongin knows he can’t escape, despite the feeling of nausea jolting his insides when the first hand lands on his shoulder.

Soon, he finds himself surrounded by six hybrids, foxes, tigers, and cheetahs indecently moving their body to the music. Up close, the marks on their skin look even worse, and he has to avert his eyes when one of the girls’ breasts appear in front of him, the see-through fabric barely concealing the blistered patches.

None of them is openly touching him; or at least, not like the ones surrounding King Taegeun are. Their hands are ghosting above his arms and thighs, their breath, brushing against his nape and grazing his cheeks.

They reek; a potent perfume that is probably considered luxurious here, but only increases his headache every time Jongin breathes in.

As he slightly turns his head away, trying to get a whiff of clear air, his eyes land on the hands hiking up the King’s thighs.

He was wrong.

They are no dancers.

They are hybrid courtesans; sex slaves here to satisfy the depraved King and his court.

A shiver of disgust makes him tremble when lips skim on the side of his neck, an acrid taste burning his throat. Mistaking it for pleasure, the hybrid boy lightly giggles in Jongin’s ear, right before his fingers lift his hair to glide on his nape.

“Is Your Highness enjoying himself?” the boy asks in a low, obscene voice.

“No…”

The whisper is so faint, he doubts the tiger hybrid even heard it. But then, with a chuckle, the boy grabs the arm of the fox girl knelt by Jongin’s side, helping her up on her feet.

“Does Your Highness, perhaps, prefer females?”

The next moment, the girl has replaced him behind Jongin, both hands resting on his shoulders, fingertips pressing as if to release the tension built underneath his skin.

He can feel King Taegeun’s stare on him, burning the side of his face. Yet, Jongin can’t help his eyes from squeezing shut as he weakly shakes his head, feeling like he is suffocating.

“You don’t have to do this...”

His supplication goes unheard, and his body breaks into cold sweats when hands press on his lower back.

“What does Your Highness like?” the girl susurrates in his ears, making his stomach lurch in revulsion. “I am very obedient,” she titters.

Unable to utter a word, Jongin shakes his head again, a bit more frantically this time. His eyes are burning behind his closed eyelids, nails digging in his thighs as he tries to anchor himself. Their fragrance is saturating the air, their hands are everywhere, and he feels tethered, trapped into a nightmare he can’t escape from.

This is so, _so_ wrong. What decent human being would force anyone to do what those hybrids are compelled to? No one should have to live like that.

It feels like an eternity has passed before King Taegeun’s voice suddenly resonates above the music.

“Ah, what a shame,” he loudly sneers in a sarcastic tone, for everyone to hear. “It would appear our beloved Crown Prince of Yangkwang is too _young_ to appreciate tonight’s festivities!”

Through the blood thumping in his ears, Jongin vaguely perceives the wave of laughter rippling across the vast room.

They have all gotten it wrong. This has nothing to do with him.

His thoughts are a mess, and behind his eyelids, familiar faces from home appear in flashes. The Spaniel boy, who always gives Daol an extra treat when Jongin can’t come to see him, the small Jindo girl who draws him a bath every day, the Red panda boy, who takes care of Jongin’s weapons, the Siberian husky girls who work in the kitchens, all the hybrids, wherever he goes in the palace.  
Jongin sees them every single day, and yet, he doesn’t know any of their names.

He is no different from King Taegeun.

He might not enslave the hybrids in the same way, but he had never truly considered them as people who deserved to be treated like any human.

Until Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo, who had been torn away from his people, and brought to him as a birthday present.

Kyungsoo, whom he has offended in so many ways, and yet, who still saved him.

The King is wrong. This really has nothing to do with the Crown Prince. This is about _Jongin_ being so blinded by what he is supposed to be, that he forgot who he should be.

“Leave him be, my dearests,” the King adds contemptuously. ”There are plenty of guests to entertain.”

All at once, the hands withdraw, and Jongin is left with his dizziness, the ghost of their touch lingering on his body. With a shaky breath, his eyes flutter open, flickering around and finding Taeil and Sehun standing near the doors. They’ve been here all along, and judging by their agitated expressions, they must have had a hard time refraining from intervening.

He is attempting to muster a reassuring smile when the King leans toward him.

“You seem quite shaken, my friend,” he says in a lower voice, yet with just as much mockery in his tone. “Perhaps you should go to bed and let us _men_ enjoy the rest of the night. I wouldn’t want to defile your innocence.”

If the Monarch had poor esteem for him before, it’s undoubtedly worse, now. But Jongin couldn’t possibly care less. If being respected by this man means condoning such vile activities, he wants none of it.

Gritting his teeth, Jongin takes a deep breath and nods, before standing. And without a look for the snickering audience, he marches toward the doors.


	6. Chapter 6

Jongin is drenched when he rides through Yangkwang’s palace’s South Gates.

The rain started pouring hours ago, but despite his guards’ persistent requests, the Crown Prince had refused to stop and take shelter. He wanted to reach home as soon as he could, and not even the capricious weather would dissuade him from doing so. Somehow, even Daol seemed to agree, judging by the stallion’s increasing pace after each of the guard’s call.

When they finally come to a standstill by the stables, domestics flock around them, grabbing their bundled belongings and helping to bring the horses back in.

Wiping the raindrops on his face with his sleeve, Jongin bids his guards goodbye, before nodding to the court lady asking if he wants a maid to draw him a bath. With a little cortège in tow, he then makes his way to his pavilion, impatience increasing with every step he takes.

Hoseong is waiting for him in front of the doors, with the broadest smile Jongin has ever seen on him. Jongin grins back, unable to hide how glad he is to finally be back. The last time he saw his personal eunuch, the young man was rather anxious to let him leave for an entire month.

“Your Highness!” Hoseong joyfully greets him with a bow. “How are you feeling? Did you enjoy your stay in Pyungpo? Did you have a safe journey back? We were worried not to see you arrive, two days ago!”

Jongin had missed this, he realizes as he listens to the flow of questions thrown at him.

With a chuckle, he pats Hoseong’s upper arm, earning a surprised look.

“Slow down,” he says. “I’m all right. Our departure was delayed, but we didn’t encounter any trouble on our trip back home,” he reassures him, smile still in place. “How have _you_ been doing this past month?”

Jongin must admit, for someone who hardly ever manages to conceal his emotions, Hoseong does a great job not looking as shocked as he probably is, at that moment.

“I’m… I’m fine, Your Highness.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Jongin answers with another little pat on the eunuch’s arm. “Has my father been informed of my return?”

“He has, Your Highness,” Hoseong replies, opening the doors for him. “His Majesty requested you to rest for the remaining of the day, and said he would be waiting for you in the morning.”

“Good. Thank you, Hoseong.”

It feels bittersweet to see the young man blink at him so confusedly. He is obviously puzzled by Jongin’s behavior, which is rather fun to watch. But knowing where that surprise origins from, knowing that such simple kind words are rare enough coming from him to astonish the eunuch is quite saddening.

“I-... Of course, Your Highness. It’s my pleasure.”

Soon, his usual court ladies are ridding him of his soaked gonryongpo, and he sees the Jindo hybrid girl exiting the bathroom, her sleeves rolled up, water still dripping along her arms from testing the water temperature.

“Your bath is ready, Your Highness,” she says in a small voice, eyes cast on the ground as she bows.

She is already walking away when he stops her.

“Wait!” he calls, feeling his stomach stir when she lifts frightened eyes toward him. “What is your name?”

“Hae- Haejin, Your Highness,” she replies after a short hesitation.

The fear contorting her face is painful to watch, so with the kindest smile Jongin can muster, he nods at her.

“Thank you, Haejin.”

He can’t blame her, really, for looking so stunned, ears turned back and tail hung low, clearly showing her worry, as well.

“You may go,” Jongin softly says, not wanting her to feel more uncomfortable than she already is.

It doesn’t take more than that for the poor hybrid girl to rush out the pavilion.

“Are you all right, Your Highness?” Hoseong asks, looking at him in concern.

Of course, two thank you’s in so little time is unusual enough from him to make people question is well-being. Or his sanity, even.

His mother would be ashamed if she were still here.

“I am,” he replies before clearing his throat, embarrassed. “I’ll go take a bath now. Could you find Kyungsoo for me?” he adds as an afterthought, wondering why he hasn’t seen the snow leopard yet.

He had been expecting to find him here, which might possibly be why he walked right away to his quarters as soon as he arrived. Not that he would admit this out loud, of course.

A spark of worry flares in his guts, however, when he notices Hoseong’s hesitant expression.

“Is there a problem?”

“N-no, Your Highness,” the eunuch hastily says, shaking his head. “I’ll bring him here right away.”

With a bow, the young man is gone. Yet, Jongin did notice the glances he exchanged with the court ladies nearest to him.

Kyungsoo couldn’t have escaped, right? Hoseong assured him he would come back with the hybrid, so what is causing the unease still floating in the room?

“Your Highness should bathe now, or you’ll catch a cold,” one of the court ladies says, without however looking at him.

Something is odd, that much is obvious. But he knows she’s right, so, after nodding at her, he heads toward the bathroom, hoping to find Kyungsoo in the main room when he’ll be done.

 

Neither the hybrid nor his personal eunuch is here when he comes out, however, and he frowns as the court ladies help him get dressed in freshly cleaned clothes.

“Has Hoseong not returned, yet?” he asks the one fastening the jade belt around his middle.

“He hasn’t, Your Highness…”

There is something off in her voice, but she seems so fidgety, as if she was afraid he could lash out on her, that he forgoes questioning her any further.

“All right. You may go, then,” he nods, offering her a little smile that she tentatively returns before leaving, the other court ladies following suit.

Strolling around the room, Jongin waits, getting reacquainted with his surroundings. Some of his books are still here, neatly arranged on the low table. After being away for so long, he will probably have to start over again the one he had begun before his father told him he would leave. He can barely remember what it was talking about.

As his index finger trace the wood pattern of the mahogany cabinet, Jongin glances at the door.

What is taking them so long?

Stepping away from the furniture, he starts pacing across the room, biting the inside of his cheek, his eyes flickering toward the door every few seconds. His patience can only last so long, however, and after a few minutes with still no sign of anyone coming in, Jongin sigh, and ends up heading outside.

The rain is still falling, albeit a little lighter, but he is tired of waiting. So, with resolute steps, he climbs the stairs down and starts walking toward the domestics’ quarters.

Thunder is rumbling, far away in the distance, and Jongin is thinking about how bad the rain season is going to be if the premises of it are already starting so soon in spring when he sees them.

Rounding the corner of the Banquet Hall, Kyungsoo and Hoseong are walking side by side, the eunuch muttering something which earns him a sharp nod from the hybrid.

Then, suddenly, Jongin sees Kyungsoo’s head snap ahead, and their eyes lock. So subtly that he almost misses, the hybrid eyes widen as his steps falter.

Realizing he has stopped, Jongin begins walking again toward them, trying to keep his pace measured to avoid looking too eager to the few people scattered around. He fails at that, and maybe he is imagining things, but Kyungsoo does seem to walk just a little faster to meet him in the middle. Or at least he did before abruptly freezing, two meters away from him.

Taken aback, Jongin halts his steps too, intently watching the feline. Something is bothering him, judging by the crease between his thick brows and his scrunched nose. Even his silver tail is harshly flicking down.

He is about to ask him what’s wrong when Kyungsoo beats him to it.

“You stink.”

Jongin doesn’t know what he expected, but surely, this is not the first thing he thought would come out of Kyungsoo’s mouth after being apart for so long.

Blinking at the hybrid, he lets a silence settle between them, waiting to see if, perhaps, he’ll say something else.

“I just took a bath,” he ends up saying when nothing comes.

“Take another one.”

Slack-jawed, Jongin stares at him in disbelief.

What kind of greeting was that?!

There is not an ounce of amusement on Kyungsoo’s face. Only irritation. His nose keeps twitching as if a smell was genuinely bothering him. Jongin doesn’t understand; Haejin put lemongrass scented oil in his bathwater like she has done many times before, and Kyungsoo never seemed to mind. Why would it suddenly irk him enough for him to start giving orders to Jongin?

“I smell just fine,” he says, frowning at the hybrid who clicks his tongue in return and eventually looks away.

With a sigh, Jongin averts his eyes as well. Arguing with Kyungsoo is definitely not what he had envisioned for the first time they would see each other again. But nothing has ever been easy with the snow leopard, so he shouldn’t be surprised, really. Out of all their conversations, he could probably count on one hand those that had ended on a positive note.

“Why are you dressed like that?” he asks, only now noticing Kyungsoo is wearing a eunuch uniform.

“My clothes are dirty.”

“All of them?”

Kyungsoo still doesn’t look at him as he nods. He doesn’t seem willing to give more details on that, so Jongin glances behind the hybrid, hoping to find Hoseong. The young man is nowhere to be seen, however, so he decides to drop the matter.

“All right. Let’s just go back to my pavilion,” he sighs, already turning around.

It seems like he was the only one impatient to meet again, judging by the distance Kyungsoo keeps between them as they walk. He had clearly been foolish to think the snow leopard was happy to see him, earlier.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

It doesn’t take long for Jongin to go back to his routine, and two days later, he is already held up in his private study, going over the questions for the _gwageo_ ’s literary examination.

The national civil service examination only happening every three years, he had, so far, been too young to be in charge of coming up with the candidates’ assignments.  
But at nineteen, his father now deems him old enough to take charge of it and ordered him to do so the morning before, once Jongin had finished his report about his stay in Pyungpo.

He is reading through the questions and answers of the previous examination Minister Choi gave him, when a movement in the corner of the room catches his attention.

Seated against the wall, Kyungsoo has apparently dozed off, his tail wrapped around his middle and the tip of his tongue poking out. His long silver hair used to always obscure his face, but today, half of it has been tied in a strange braided ponytail. It looks intricate, despite the few unruly strands sticking out here and there, and the sides are lifted enough to show the scar going straight from his cheekbone to the bridge of his nose actually stems from way past the hairline, above his human ear. The small bones going through his lobe are visible as well, and although it’s still strange to wonder what animal they come from, they don’t make Jongin feel as uneasy as they used to.

Ears twitching, Kyungsoo’s breathing suddenly picks up, right before he tips over, jolting awake when he feels his body falling. Jongin watches him look around, seemingly disoriented for a few seconds, and he can’t help but chuckle.

“What were you dreaming about?” he asks in a light tone.

Without answering, Kyungsoo adjusts his position, bringing his knees against his chest and wrapping his arms around them, tail settling on the floor.

“I know you’re bored,” Jongin continues. “I am as well, if this is any comfort,” he adds, sighing as he looks at the documents in front of him.

Coming up with a problem-essay question intended to show the candidates political aptitude is not exactly the most exciting thing he ever had to do. And after three hours of reading through examination archives, he would gladly mimic Kyungsoo and take a nap.

“Not really,” the hybrid replies.

Looking back at him, Jongin raises a brow, a teasing smile curving one side of his lips.

“You fell asleep,” he points out, earning a sigh from the feline, who starts brushing his fingers through his tail.

“I mean it is not really comforting.”

The words, pronounced in an impassive tone, pull a little laugh from Jongin.

“All right. Let me just finish reading through this roll, and we’ll go out for a walk in the gardens,” he says, deciding he can allow himself to take a break.

He also feels bad for keeping Kyungsoo in for so long.

“It’s fine,” Kyungsoo answers with a shrug, eyes still focused on his task. “Take your time. It will rain soon, anyway.”

It’s odd to hear him talk like that, in full well-built sentences. His foreign-sounding accent is still there, albeit just a little less strong, but Jongin was taken aback, the night before, when Kyungsoo replied to a question without much of the syntactic mistakes he used to make.

He hasn’t mentioned it yet, though, despite being curious. Perhaps this is the right opportunity to do so, he thinks, starting to tidy up his desk, forgoing the document he wanted to complete reading.

“You finally managed to learn how to properly speak Korean,” he says, trying to sound as nonchalant as he can.

“It was annoying to pretend I couldn’t.”

With a scoff, Jongin rolls his eyes, before looking at Kyungsoo knowingly. If there’s anything he is sure about the hybrid, it’s that he did _not_ fake the way he used to speak.

It takes a few moments for his mind to register something is off, and even longer until he understands what it is. When he does, however, his breathing hitches as he blinks confusedly.

This is the very first time Kyungsoo is smiling at him.

Not with a smirk, or in teasing way, but a real smile.

Admittedly, it’s a small one, barely a shadow, but the corners of his lips are curved up, so very slightly, and Jongin is left with a speeding heartbeat, feeling oddly overwhelmed.

Trying to hide his bafflement, he hurriedly stands, wincing when the chair loudly scraps against the floor and stifling a groan when his thigh collides with the table. His hands are clumsily gathering the rolls when Kyungsoo’s words make him freeze.

“Your brother is a good teacher.”

For the next few seconds, Jongin stands completely still, eyes burning through the wooden surface of the desk. The memory of Seohyun informing him Kyungsoo had talked to Jongdae before flashes in his mind, overlapping with made-up images of Kyungsoo laughing with his brother.

So this is what the hybrid had done with his time, while Jongin was striving on his own in Pyungpo.

“Right,” he eventually says, teeth gritted as he resumes arranging the documents with stiff movements. “I’m sure he is.”

Choosing to ignore the curious look Kyungsoo is sending at him, he steps away from the desk.

“Come on. It feels suffocating inside,” he adds, before heading for the door.

 

“What happened to your hair,” Jongin asks a bit later as they walk through the gardens.

“Yeonjoo-ssi,” Kyungsoo replies with a sigh, pulling a little laugh out of him.

The idea of his niece trying to braid Kyungsoo’s hair is rather amusing, he must admit. And it does explain the messy strands dangling here and there.

“It looks nice,” he says teasingly, unsurprised when he gets glared at. “How did she even convince you to let her do that?”

He knows the hybrid is not exactly fond of people touching him, or even being near him, so it’s a little baffling to imagine him agreeing to that. Especially considering Yeonjoo’s restive nature.

“The little Princess is very strong-willed,” the snow leopard simply replies.

Jongin would have probably chuckled at the polite way of saying she is as stubborn as a mule, had he not noticed the oddly serious undertone in Kyungsoo’s voice. It’s as if, in his mind, this were by no mean a negative trait that could get Yeonjoo into trouble, but rather something that should be commended.

“She is,” Jongin nods pensively, eyeing the hybrid walking by his side.

“My youngest sister likes to play with my hair too, when I braid hers.”

Steps faltering, Jongin bites the inside of his cheek.

He should’ve been happy that Kyungsoo decided to share something like that without him asking. Yet, the longing in his voice is making Jongin’s guts stir uncomfortably. He is not sure he’s glad Kyungsoo learned how to talk so well, after all. There are too many feeling sipping through his words, without any speech mistakes to absorb their impact.

Sparing another brief glance at the hybrid as he tries to come up with something to say, he ends up freezing again at the sight of Kyungsoo lifting one of the hair strands sticking out.

“What happened to your wrist?” Jongin asks, eyes focused on the scarlet band of raw skin, fighting the urge to grab his arm to inspect it closer.

In a heartbeat, Kyungsoo’s hand is back down, and the other has already pulled the sleeve over the lesion, eyes cast on the floor.

It’s too late, though. The marks are easily identifiable.

“Did you try to escape again while I was away?” he asks, tone now completely flat as he stares at Kyungsoo’s face.

He gets no answer, but at this point, Kyungsoo’s silence is enough for him to know he is right. And slowly, he starts connecting the dots.

“Where were you, two days ago?” he asks, turning to face him. “When I sent Hoseong to find you.”

He waits, but nothing comes.

“Kyungsoo… Where were-”

“In a cell,” the hybrid interrupts him in an impassive voice.

Jongin wryly scoffs, before shaking his head.

“I see,” he breathes, finally piecing things together. “This is why you were dressed like that, isn’t it? After getting you out of the cell, Hoseong wanted you to change so that I wouldn’t see the state of your clothes. But since all your belongings are in my living quarters, where _I_ was...”

“Yes,” Kyungsoo admits in a bland tone.

“Was it fun lying to me?” Jongin dejectedly asks in a heartbeat. “Did you two really think I wouldn’t find out?”

The feeling of betrayal grows bitterer as he watches Kyungsoo merely shrug, eyes still on the ground. There is not a hint of anger in his mind, though; only disappointment.  
It is wonted behavior, coming from Kyungsoo. But from Hoseong, the disloyalty feels sour and disheartening. So, with a deep sigh, Jongin turns around.

“You should get that checked,” he says, doing his best to keep his voice from wavering. “Don’t let it get infected.”

And with those words, he walks away, caring very little if Kyungsoo follows or not.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

By the next morning, Jongin has yet to address a word to either Kyungsoo or Hoseong. If it were up to him, he would avoid them altogether, but he knows this would only bring people to ask questions he doesn’t want to answer, not even to himself. After all, there should be no reason for him to feel crestfallen.

Had it come from Taeil, or even Sehun, his reaction would be understandable, after so many years by their sides. But neither the hybrid nor the eunuch is his friend; they’re only supposed to serve him. Therefore, he shouldn’t care.

But he does. And Kyungsoo’s downcast eyes as he offhandedly shrugged keep flashing in his mind, breaking the concentration he really needs at this moment.

What he witnessed earlier in the day surely does help either. Kyungsoo had stayed out while Jongin was taking his lesson with his preceptor, which was perfectly fine, considering he usually did nothing but stand near the door, waiting for it to be over. But by the end of it, when Jongin had stepped out of his private study, it had been to find the hybrid pleasantly conversing with Jongdae. And if the gentle smile on Kyungsoo’s face hadn’t been enough to make his blood boil, the way his brother had reached for the snow leopard’s arm,, a broad smile on his lips and without encountering any resistance on Kyungsoo’s part, had definitely managed to ignite a spark of anger in Jongin’s guts, at last.

Even hours later, the memory of the two of them lightly chatting together is still burning behind his eyelids every single time he blinks.

“All right, stop!”

With a sigh, Jongin steps away from his opponent and turns to his combat instructor.

“What is on your mind, Your Highness?” the man asks from the side of the training ground.

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“You’re not focused,” the man sharply replies. “You’re making mistakes.”

The humiliation stings and Jongin has to grit his teeth to avoid talking back. He never really liked the man, but his father would never allow him to disrespect his military commander.

“Again!”

At the shouted order, Jongin faces the soldier again, wiping the sweat pooling under his chin.

“Pay attention to your opponent! Find his weaknesses!”

As they start to circle each other, Jongin exhales slowly. He has trained with this guard a few times in the past. The boy is a recent recruit, but from what he can remember, he is quite skilled in hand-to-hand combat.

Narrowing his eyes, Jongin observes his stance, being scrutinized in return. He is left-handed, judging by the way walks and holds his arms. He must know Jongin’s right side is his dominant one, so he’ll try to force him to expose the left part of his body.

“We don’t have all day!” their instructor hollers.

Before his sentence is even over, Jongin has already made his move. In a couple of fluid motions, his arm is circling his opponents middle and completely pivoting him around. Aiming for the back of his knee, Jongin’s foot pushes, effectively unbalancing the soldier. The young man, however, catches himself, and before Jongin has the time to step back, he is rotating on one foot and standing.  
In the split second it takes for Jongin to realize his compromising position, a foot is already colliding with his ribs. With the next one, all the air gets knocked out of his lungs as his back lands on the ground, the guard’s hand pressed against his chest.

“Up.”

The commander sounds just as annoyed as Jongin feels, and with a sigh, he takes the reached out hand the guard offers him and gets on his feet.

“Go stand on the side, soldier.”

Bowing to Jongin, the young man complies as the instructor moves forward.

“Perhaps Your Highness needs a little motivation,” the man says in a slow, cryptic tone.

With a frown, Jongin watches him look around as if he were searching for something. He seems to quickly find it, and Jongin feels his blood freeze when the man smirks.

“You!” he says, nudging his chin toward someone behind Jongin. “Come here.”

Footsteps soon start approaching, and Jongin bites the inside of his cheeks as the commander looks back at him.

“If you want to succeed this time, I’d suggest Your Highness tries a bit harder,” he says with a little laugh.

This is not happening.

He knows very well who was standing in that exact spot. For the entire past hour, not only Jongin’s eyes kept catching sight of him as he fought, but he could feel the intense gaze on him, aggravating his lack of focus.

How on earth is he supposed to out-strengthen _Kyungsoo_?

The hybrid has killed both a full-grown deer and a massive wolf right in front of his eyes! As skilled as Jongin is, he doesn’t stand a chance against the snow leopard. He is almost sure he won’t even need his enhanced senses to win.

“Sir, are you sure this is-”

“Silence,” the commander interrupts, cutting Taeil’s objection short as Kyungsoo comes to a standstill in front of the Crown Prince.

From the corner of his eyes, Jongin sees his friend send him a worried look. He is not the only one; all the guards seem just as concerned. And somehow, this suddenly pulls a lever in him, opening the door for his ego to properly get out.

He won’t have that. Showing weakness is not an option.

“Do I have to be careful?”

Zooming on Kyungsoo, who just asked this in a low, yet casual voice, Jongin frowns. Is he actually teasing him?

With a disbelieving scoff, Jongin lifts his chin.

“No.”

“Are you sure?” Kyungsoo asks, one corner of his lips curling up. “I will be put in a cell if I kill you,” he adds in a jesting tone.

Squinting, Jongin stares at him. Why would he say something like that? Why would he _joke_ about it?

“Don’t hold back,” he curtly answers when Kyungsoo raises an amused brow at him.

As a reply, the feline offers him a little bow of the head, his smirk still taunting him.

A few seconds later, the military commander orders them to begin, and Jongin positions himself.

He is no fool, he knows he won’t stand a chance if he fights like he usually does. Kyungsoo won’t expose any weak spot unless Jongin gives him no other choice. He’s going to have to play dirty. Thankfully, training with Taeil so often has taught him just how to do that. His friends know how he fights, so Jongin has to continually change his tactics.

As they start circling each other, he assesses his options. Having seen him train many times, Kyungsoo will expect him to attack first like he usually does. If he can manage to get him into a defensive position to block Jongin’s arm, he might be able to get a hit on one of his legs.

As soon as the thought has made its way through his mind, Jongin makes his move. Lurching forward, he swings his arm up toward Kyungsoo’s head, ducking to avoid the hand trying to do the same to him. With two fluid motions and a swift rotation, he has gotten Kyungsoo to take a step back, arm raised, and left leg wholly exposed. The next second, his foot collides with the hybrid’s knee, and he hears him huff as he stumbles back.

The look on Kyungsoo’s face is priceless, at that moment. A mix of astonishment, confusion, and something else that Jongin can’t identify, but has the feline’s full lips curling up.

“Very good!” the commander exclaims from the side. “Let’s try again!”

Jongin doesn’t pay him any mind, though. And before the echo of the man’s voice has died down, Jongin has already pounced.

For the next minute, their bodies move flowingly, aiming, blocking, clashing. Jongin gets as many hits as he takes, and is left panting, sweat dribbling on his skin. Kyungsoo doesn’t seem as spent, standing tall in front of him, breathing leveled. He does, however, looks genuinely surprised, which, in turn, silently powers Jongin’s ego up.

Being underestimated would have usually irked him, but somehow, it’s different this time. And as he straightens up, wiping the sweat rolling in his eye, he notices something odd.

Kyungsoo seems to be having _fun_. His expression looks focused, yet pleased, with his tail held high and waggling.

Then Jongin realizes. This is something familiar to him. Maybe not exactly in that form, but as a hunter, he had had to learn how to fight.

He knows some animals teach their youngs how to hunt with games, making it a playful activity to help them learn better. If the snow leopards’ tribe does the same, it’s no wonder why Kyungsoo is enjoying this.

And suddenly, as he watches the feline go back in position, it doesn’t feel like training anymore. Unconsciously, Jongin’s lips curl up, and he starts moving again.

He lets out an amused grunt, a few moments later, when he takes a blow in the stomach, before retaliating and aiming a kick on Kyungsoo’s thigh. As they keep fighting, his mood exponentially lightens up, and they both end up smiling at each other every time one gets a good hit or manage to block an attack.

“All right, finish it!” the commander orders after some time, bringing Jongin back to reality.

Kyungsoo looks fascinating.

The way he moves so fluidly is enthralling, reminding Jongin of that day in the forest. But he knows this game has to end, and as nice as it was to play around, he won’t win like that.

It does, however, make him realize something. Kyungsoo is strong, way more than he showed so far. Which means he _is_ holding back, despite previously being told not to. This is the only real advantage Jongin has on him.

And then he understands. He just needs to put himself in a situation risky enough for Kyungsoo to have no other choice but to withdraw if he wants to avoid really hurting him. That’s when he’ll strike.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, count to three in his mind, and plunges.

Through Kyungsoo’s and his own rapid breaths, he can hear the guards gasping all around at the series of movements that ensue. Limbs colliding, dirt flying around as they skid, there comes a point where he doesn’t know which one of them is grunting and huffing anymore.

Then, seeing an opening, he ducks his head before Kyungsoo’s arm hits it, and shoves his shoulder in the hybrid’s chest, knee surging forward to push on his thigh. He knows his back and left side are completely exposed, which, in the position he is in, would undoubtedly result in him losing. But if he is right, Kyungsoo will try to swing him around instead, either to get his ribs or to push on the back of his knees.

He smiles to himself when, indeed, he feels Kyungsoo’s arm circling his shoulders, and braces his right leg to counter the rotation and force him to loosen his hold. He will only have one second before Kyungsoo realizes what he intends to do and changes his tactic.

Too focused on his next move, he realizes his mistake too late, and by that time, Kyungsoo has already hooked his ankle around Jongin’s own. Yanking his leg, the hybrid effectively unbalances him, and the next second, Jongin is falling backward.

As a reflex, his arm swings and grabs the back of Kyungsoo’s tunic, and with his own hand still around Jongin’s shoulder, the snow leopard ends up losing his balance as well.

The impact hurts, vibrating all along his spine, down to his tailbone and tearing a raspy moan out of his chest. His eyes are squeezed shut, teeth gritted as he waits for the pain to subside.

But it’s only when he feels the warmth of his own breaths coming back against his face that he notices the position he is in.

Or rather, the position _they_ are in.

Hovering above him, Kyungsoo has one hand on the ground, by Jongin’s shoulder. The other one is under the Crown Prince’s head, spread fingers cupping it and pressing it against his chest, effectively preventing it from hitting the ground.

During a floating moment, none of them moves, their loud panting the only sound surrounding them.

Then, Kyungsoo is leaning away, and iridescent eyes brimming with worry lock with Jongin’s fluttering ones.

“Are you all right?”

The tone is urgent, matched by a deep crease between his thick brows.

Jongin stares, confusedly blinking.

Silver strands of hair are grazing his cheeks, swinging lightly in rhythm with Kyungsoo’s breathing, and Jongin finds himself unable to look away.

There are voices all around, and footsteps quickly approaching, but he can barely hear them through the whistle in his ears.

“Are you hurt?”

He can see Kyungsoo’s lips moving, can feel the hand lightly shaking his head, prompting him to reply. But the words are stuck inside, tangled in the web spreading in his chest. He wants to move, nod, shake his head, but his body refuses to comply.

Thoughts jumbling in his mind, ice and fire coursing through his veins, he can only clench his fingers harder around Kyungsoo’s tunic, in a vain attempt of anchoring himself.

Then, in a heartbeat, the snow leopard is gone, yanked away by hands soon making their way on Jongin’s arms.

“Your Highness! Are you feeling all right?”

“Are you in pain?”

“Keep it away!”

“We have to get him to the Royal Physician!”

“Did he hit his head?”

“Can you talk, Your Highness?”

“I said keep it away!!”

When the commander’s last order reaches his ears, Jongin suddenly snaps back to reality. He looks around, trying to spot the man, and soon find him standing a meter away. Behind him, three guards are holding Kyungsoo, who is visibly trying to break free, eyes fixed on Jongin.

When their gazes meet, the hybrid stills and Jongin finally find his voice.

“I’m all right,” he breathes, earning relieved sighs from the guards surround him, despite the words not being addressed to them. “Let him go,” he says louder as Taeil helps him sit.

When the hands release him, Kyungsoo stands unmoving, their eyes still locked.

“Let me take you to the Physician’s office,” Taeil says, knelt by his side.

“I said I was all right,” he replies, a bit sharper than necessary.

And he is. At least physically speaking. But he doesn’t think the Royal Physician would have any medicine for what is going on in his head. Let alone in his chest.

Jongin probably wouldn’t even be able to explain what is wrong, anyway.

Finally averting his eyes, he still lets Sehun and Taeil aid him up on his feet.

“I’m done for the day,” he tells his instructor, who simply nods, before throwing a brief glance at Kyungsoo. “Come on.”

Without a word, the hybrid walks to him and diligently follows as Jongin makes his way out of the training grounds.

They walk in awkward silence, Kyungsoo one step behind, as he always does. Jongin knows he should say something; probably thank him for preventing him from getting truly hurt. He doesn’t even care that he might have looked ridiculous in front of so many guards. Just a simple ‘thank you’ should be enough. After all, Kyungsoo is still the one who provoked his fall, to begin with.

But he looked worried; a reaction Jongin can’t really wrap his thoughts around.

“Does it mean I win?”

Abruptly halting his steps, Jongin looks over his shoulder, raising a brow at the feline.

“Excuse me?”

“You fell,” Kyungsoo says with a shrug, slightly canting his head to the side. “So, I win, right?”

“You fell too!” Jongin replies in disbelief, swiftly turning on his heels to face him.

“Because you _grabbed_ me.”

Jaw falling open as he scoffs, Jongin narrows his eyes at him.

“Of course I grabbed you! I was _falling_!”

“Then I win.”

It takes Jongin a few seconds to register the joking undertone sipping through the feigned nonchalance, but when he does, he finally realizes what the hybrid is doing.

After finding out about his new escape attempt, Jongin hadn’t spoken a word to him, until the military commander had forced them to train together. For a moment, back there, they interacted in a way they never did before. But it had all ended in the blink of an eye, and the air between them had grown tense. Even a few minutes ago, Jongin had thought the silence was uncomfortable.

Kyungsoo would never explicitly say it, but could it be that he’s trying to prevent being shut down again?

Does Jongin want to go back to ignoring him?

On his part, the answer is clear, although he would never admit it to anyone other than himself.

“Fine. You won,” he sighs, exaggerating the annoyance in his voice.

“Good,” Kyungsoo nods before starting to walk again, forcing Jongin to progress backward.

“But you still fell, too.”

“So?”

“So, I win as well.”

“When two people fight, only one can win.”

“There can be two winners,” Jongin exclaims, having more and more difficulties not breaking his serious facade.

He can see Kyungsoo glance over his shoulder every now and then as if to make sure there were no obstacle Jongin could bump into while walking backward.

“No.”

“Oh, so you know the rules better than me, now?”

Rolling his eyes, Kyungsoo mumbles a few words Jongin doesn’t understand.

“What was that?” he asks, squinting suspiciously.

“Nothing.”

“You _did_ say something. What does it mean?”

“You just hear things,” the hybrid replies, lips twitching.

“Yes. Your voice, speaking in a language I don’t know.”

“Tough luck.”

Mouth opening in disbelief, Jongin ends up scoffing.

“I’m not sure I appreciate you speaking Korean so well…”

“You will get used to it.”

“Come on, tell me what it meant,” he asks again, this time unable to hold back his grin.

“You don’t want to know,” Kyungsoo replies, a teasing glint in his eyes as a smirk makes its way on his lips as well.

Jongin is in the midst of pulling off an offended expression, when Kyungsoo’s hands suddenly grab his elbows, stopping him from taking another step backward.

Raising his brows in a silent question, he quickly notices the hybrid is staring at something behind him.

“My apologies, Sir,” a voice says, compelling Jongin to turn around.

Worn-out clothes partially concealed by the heavy-looking bundle he is carrying, the tall man in front of him bows, a contrite expression on his face. He looks exhausted, hair a mess and deep, dark circles under his eyes.

“No harm was done,” Jongin replies, realizing Kyungsoo must have kept him from colliding with the stranger.

“If I may ask,” the man says, visibly hesitant. “Do you live at the palace?”

Jongin stares at him in confusion. Where else could the Crown Prince live?

“Obviously…”

“Ah! Then would you, perhaps, know where I could find the King?”

Raising a brow, Jongin looks at him up and down, trying to understand what is going on. He is clearly not a noble, judging by his scruffy appearance, and the slightly accented way in which he speaks makes Jongin wonder if he is even from Yangkwang. If he is, he obviously doesn’t live anywhere near the palace.

“Who are you?”

“Oh! Please, excuse my lack of manners, Sir,” the man says, eyes widening before he hurriedly bows again, the abrupt motion making the second bundle on his back swing toward Jongin.

In a heartbeat, Kyungsoo, one hand still around his elbow, slightly pulls him out of the way, accidentally making them bump into each other.

“I come from a village, high up north,” the man says, catching Jongin’s attention back from the surprised glance he was sending to Kyungsoo. “In the hopes of talking to our King.”

“For that, you need to request an audience with His Majesty,” Jongin states, still baffled by the way the man is addressing him, before suddenly remembering he is wearing his military training uniform.

The man must think he is nothing but a soldier.

“Oh. I-... I didn’t know that.”

“Send a request. If it gets approved, then you will be allowed to meet him.”

“I see… Thank you, Sir,” the man says with a grateful smile, reaching out both hands to grab Jongin’s left one.

Before he can, however, Kyungsoo has already half-stepped in front of Jongin in a flash, ears facing the sides as he stares down at the man despite being a bit shorter, a low growl vibrating within his chest.

Reasonably startled, the man steps back, and bows yet again, giving Jongin an apologetic look.

“I’ll be on my way, then. Have a nice day, Sir,” he says before hurrying away, struggling to carry his belongings.

“He wasn’t trying to hurt me,” Jongin confusedly says when the man has disappeared behind a building.

“He stinks,” Kyungsoo curtly replies.

From where he stands, Jongin can see his jaw clenching.

“Again with that?” he exclaims with a chuckle, remembering how the hybrid’s nose had been scrunching up when he returned from Pyungpo. “Does anyone ever smell nice to you?”

“Not when they’re marked,” the snow leopard answers, vaguely glancing at Jongin over his shoulder before he resumes walking.

Quickly falling into step with him, Jongin frowns.

“Marked?”

“I don’t know what they are, but his hybrid is possessive,” the feline declares in an even tone. “He reeks.”

“Wait a minute. You said the same thing about me, the day I came back.”

“Yes.”

The answer is sharp, clearly not a good memory for Kyungsoo. And the way his nose scrunches up, just like that day, confirms it.

“Had I been...marked?” Jongin asks, confused.

“Yes. It was disgusting,” Kyungsoo replies as they climb his pavilion stairs. “Too many scents.”

He doesn’t like the cold expression on the snow leopard’s face, at that moment. It’s way too reminiscing of those first weeks after they met, back when Jongin was an idiot, and Kyungsoo was always angry at him.

Admittedly, Jongin is still stupid from time to time, but at least the hybrid has since opened up a little.

So, with the most casual voice he can muster, he says:

“You know, you can just say you don’t like smelling any hybrid on me other than you.”

Fingers around on the doors handles, Kyungsoo freezes, before letting out a scoff and glancing at Jongin.

“Why would I say that?”

“Because it’s true?”

“Did I hit your head too hard earlier?” Kyungsoo asks, a light smirk curling one side of his lips. “You imagine things.”

“If you say so,” Jongin shrugs, pretending not to believe him and silently rejoicing when Kyungsoo’s smirk turns into a little grin.

He would never admit it, but he quite likes making Kyungsoo smile, even if it’s at his own expense. And acting like a fool is an effective way to do that.

Of course, Jongin is aware his rare grins don’t mean he is happy here, and deep down, Jongin knows he’s being selfish, wanting the hybrid to at least look like he’s not sad anymore.

Kyungsoo might’ve gotten used to living at the Palace, perhaps even lost hope he would ever leave, but if he had the choice, Jongin is convinced he would return to his family.

And it stings, somehow, to know he would leave everything behind, that he would abandon _Jongin_ behind, in a heartbeat, if it meant going back home.

This is what makes Jongin selfish, really. Deciding to turn a blind eye on Kyungsoo’s pain, and pretending there is nothing he can do about it is easier than going against his father.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

It’s about two weeks later that Jongin stumbles upon his brother in the gardens. Seated on a bench, Jongdae is alone, which is rare enough to intrigue him, considering his personal eunuch is generally with him at all times. Although, more recently, Jongin has been seeing him in Kyungsoo’s company quite often, which never fails to ignite that now familiar spark of irritation within his chest.

But neither Jongdae’s eunuch nor Kyungsoo is here at that moment, busy having dinner in the domestics’ quarters.

For a few seconds, Jongin considers turning around and leaving. It’s has become a reflex, really, after so many years of deliberately avoiding him despite knowing that Jongdae couldn’t see him even if he stood right in front of his face. But eventually, he just resumes walking, keeping his eyes cast ahead of him.

“Jongin?”

Steps faltering before coming to a standstill, he glances at the elder, whose cloudy eyes are directed somewhere around where he stopped.

He should have walked away, after all.

“Jongin-ah? Is that you?”

“How did you know?”

The words have escaped his mouth before he can hold them back, and he mentally curses at himself when he sees the broad smile blooming on Jongdae’s lips.

Once he gets an answer, he doesn’t have to stay any longer, right?

“The sound of your steps is really distinctive,” the elder says, looking oddly proud.

Curiosity piqued, Jongin sighs, forgoing his escape and making his way toward the bench.

“How so?” he asks with the most uninterested tone he can manage.

“You have a faster pace than most,” Jongdae replies, visibly pleased to be asked. “And the heel of your left boot scrapes the ground every now and then.”

“Wh-… I do _not_ shuffle!” Jongin exclaims, glaring at him.

“That’s not what I said,” his brother chuckles, not minding Jongin’s harshness, as usual. “Come on, sit with me,” he adds, patting the free spot on his right.

After clicking his tongue and sighing again, Jongin complies, still keeping some distance between them.

“What are you doing here alone?”

“Ah, I don’t need Wonchul as often as I used to,” Jongdae says, looking so delighted that it’s becoming ridiculous.

“Why not?”

“Kyungsoo showed me how to focus on my hearing,” the elder chirps. “As a hybrid, and a hunter, he relies a lot on his senses. He taught me a lot while you were in Pyungpo.”

That spark again.

“He said you taught him a lot as well,” Jongin says, the words scraping his throat, tasting bitter on his tongue. “Like how to speak properly.”

“He is a fast learner,” Jongdae nods, with that everlasting smile still stuck on his face. “He already had all the basic knowledge, way more than I thought. Or I should say, way more than he let us think,” he adds with a little laugh. “I didn’t do much. He is really smart. Clever, too.”

“I know that.”

“I’m sure you do.”

The little chuckle instantly earns Jongdae a glare.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing more than what it says, Jongin.”

A tense silence slowly settles between them as Jongin stares at the flowers all around swaying with the breeze. He is not sure why he even stays there. It’s not as if Jongdae could catch up if he left, really.

“He is not with you, right now,” the elder calmly declares.

“Obviously not.”

Once again, the sharp tone does very little to wipe the smile out of Jongdae’s face, and Jongin ends up sighing for the umpteenth time.

“He’s eating with the others.”

Oddly, that seems to be way more effective, and he sees his brother’s content expression suddenly turn worried.

“He is?”

“Yes. Why?”

“It’s just… While you were away, he ate dinner with me almost every night.”

“What?”

“I found out the other hybrids weren’t exactly...welcoming.”

Frowning, Jongin stares at the elder, waiting to see if he is going to explain any further.

“He didn’t tell me about that,” he eventually says when Jongdae remains silent.

“I’m not surprised.”

“Why not?”

“You know why, Jongin.”

He genuinely doesn’t. But he also doesn’t appreciate admitting any form of ignorance to anyone, especially to Jongdae, so he keeps his mouth shut.

“Is he at least all right, now?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

Glassy eyes turn toward him, compelling him to look away as a shiver run down his spine. They still creep him out.

“Don’t you know he spent almost three days in jail?” Jongdae asks, eyebrows raised in surprise. “They only released him when you came back. I don’t think they treated him well,” he adds, lips pursing in displeasure. “You know how the guards tend to _forget_ to give food to the hybrids ending up down there.”

It’s odd to see him looking anything other than content. Even when Jongin is plain rude to him, Jongdae rarely loses his smile.

“I feel bad,” his brother continues with a little sigh. “It was my fault.”

That has the merit of arousing his curiosity again.

“What do you mean?” he asks, brows knitted together.

“I was worried,” Jongdae says, looking weirdly hesitant, now. “You were supposed to come back two days earlier than you did… But you still weren’t there when I met him during the afternoon.”

The mention of Jongdae being concerned for him feels strange, despite knowing he is the only one holding a grudge. He is not sure he likes knowing his brother cares about him.

“So? How does that make it your fault?”

“Like I said, I was worried. And I rambled about how malicious King Taegeun is, and what he did to ascend the throne,” Jongdae continues, before sighing once more as he shakes his head. “A few hours later, I heard the guards had thrown him in a cell for trying to escape.”

“I still fail to see why this would be your fault.”

“Jongin, had I not told him you might be in trouble, he wouldn’t have tried to leave to find you.”

Out of all the answers he could have expected, this would’ve definitely never made it on the list.

“But he _told_ me he tried to escape…”

“Did he? Or did you assume on your own?”

Effectively shutting him up, the words ring against his eardrums as he bites the inside of his cheek. Jongdae is right; Kyungsoo never explicitly said he tried to escape. Jongin only deduced it and didn’t bother asking for a confirmation.

“How is it that you always indirectly get him imprisoned?”

“What do you mean ‘always’?”

Somehow, despite being blind, the look Jongdae sends him at that moment makes Jongin feel small.

“Back in March?” he says as if he were talking to a feeble-minded. “You went to visit your mother, without telling him. He came to find me, asking if I knew where you were.”

“W-what?”

“When I heard he had been caught, I didn’t think much of it,” Jongdae says before slightly tilting his head. “But in hindsight, I think he might have still been feeling uneasy after what happened to you in the forest, a few weeks prior.”

How does Jongdae even know about this? Jongin didn’t exactly share the details with anyone.

“I honestly don’t think he tried to escape that day either,” his brother confidently declares with a serious face. “I think he had planned on sneaking out of the palace to find you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jongin replies, rolling his eyes.

The mere idea of Kyungsoo risking to be imprisoned just to make sure Jongin was okay is utterly absurd. Let alone doing that _twice_. He had only used the Crown Prince’s absence as an opportunity to try to go back to his family.

“Is it, really?”

“He just wants to return to his people, Hyung-nim.”

“That is true, yes,” Jongdae agrees with a nod. “But it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you.”

Shaking his head, Jongin looks away.

He knows Kyungsoo cares, to some extent, but he has always put that on account of him not wanting to get punished if anything were to happen to Jongin under his watch. However, the task of protecting him doesn’t apply when they’re not together, so why would he care during those moments?

This is what he wants to explain to his brother, but before he can, footsteps rapidly approach, and Hoseong emerges from behind a shrub hedge.

“Your Highness! You’re here!”

“Is something wrong?” Jongin calmly asks, knowing how easily alarmed the young eunuch can get.

“His Majesty requested you to have dinner with him.”

With a little snort, Jongin nods. There really was no reason for Hoseong to get all nervous about this. Albeit not recurrent, it is not a rare occurrence either.

“All right. I’ll need to change, then,” he says, starting to get up before noticing the hesitation on the young man’s face. “What is it?”

“Prince Jongdae is expected too, Your Highness.”

“Am I?”

This, on the other, is anything but usual. Jongin can’t even recall the last time his father has even _looked_ at Jongdae. But it might very well explain Hoseong’s anxiousness.

“You are, Your Highness.”

“Very well. Have you seen Wonchul?”

“He is looking for you, Your Highness.”

With a nod, Jongdae reaches out, hand clumsily lingering in the air before finding Jongin’s arm to pat it.

“Go ahead. I’ll wait for him here.”

“All right.”

And as he walks toward his pavilion, Hoseong trailing behind, Jongin thinks he could have offered his help.

He probably should have.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Seohyun turns out to be there as well when Jongin arrives in front of his father’s living quarters, half an hour later.

She looks worried; appropriately so, in Jongin’s opinion.

“Do you know what this is about?” she asks as he stops in front of her.

“No. I didn’t even know you would be there. Hoseong only informed Hyung-nim and me.”

“You were with Jongdae?” she exclaims, eyebrows flying up.

Rolling his eyes, Jongin clicks his tongue.

“That’s not the point, Noonim.”

“Fine, I won’t ask, then.”

Before long, Jongdae shows up, arm hooked around his eunuch’s elbow.

“Noonim?”

“I’m here,” Seohyun gently replies, reaching out and giving a smile to the domestic. “I’ll take it from here, Wonchul-ssi. Thank you.”

With an ease forged by habits, Jongdae takes their sister’s arm, grinning in the general direction of his eunuch, who bows before walking away.

“I knew you were here,” Jongdae then smiles. “I smelt your perfume halfway through the corridor.”

Jongin watches Seohyun chuckle, her hand softly patting Jongdae’s, curled around her forearm. He rarely sees them together, but their interactions make it clear how close they are. It’s odd to know they’re family, yet to feel like he is intruding.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he looks away.

It hasn’t always been that way. Jongin knows there was a time when he used to drag Jongdae all around the palace grounds, talking about what he had done this day, describing everything his brother couldn’t see. Seohyun would join them, sometimes, to make sure Jongin’s enthusiasm didn’t lead their unsighted brother into precarious situations.

But it all took place so long ago that Jongin can barely remember anymore. With his mother’s death had come the added weight of the ikseongwan propped on his head, and everything before that had turned blurry, like memories from a past, happy life. And despite being acclaimed and considered as the Son of the kingdom, Jongin still thinks his siblings are the lucky ones, even with what they have been through.

Jongdae is chuckling at something Seohyun said when the doors in front of them finally open. The three of them calmly make their way in, and Jongin tries to ignore the sudden tension he can feel coming from his siblings. Dining with their father shouldn’t be such a stressful event, and for him, it is not. For them, however, Jongin is not sure it happened before. Ever.

Looking every bit of the king he is, clad in his red hongryongpo, their father awaits, seated in front of several tables already covered in dishes. He looks tired, even more than when Jongin saw him last, and yet, it does nothing to alter his poise.

After greeting him, Jongin takes the central sitting mat without any hesitation, leaving the side ones, a little farther from the King, to his siblings. Odd situation or not, it doesn’t erase the fact that he is the Crown Prince, the important one, out of them three, and is expected to act as such, including when it comes to seating choices.

He easily returns the smile his father offers him, waiting for Seohyun to help Jongdae before she takes her place as well.

“How was your day, son?”

It’s clear who the Monarch is addressing, so without really thinking about it, Jongin replies.

“Very nice. Minister Choi was pleased with the gwageo’s questions I submitted to him.”

“Good. I knew you were ready for the task.”

“Thank you, Father,” Jongin says with a bow of his head, earning a proud smile.

“Let’s eat,” the King then says.

The clinking of gold utensils soon fills the silence, and Jongin eventually manages to brush aside the uncomfortable aura sipping through his siblings. For a long moment, no words are exchanged, until a voice behind the doors startles him.

“He’s here, Your Majesty.”

Frowning, Jongin looks up at his father, who places his spoon back on the table, before he gives a quick glance to his sister. She seems just as unsettled as he is, judging by the crease between her brows.

“Let him in,” the King says, before looking back at them.

“I would like to introduce you to someone,” he says in a leveled voice just as the doors open and the sound of footsteps starts approaching.

He looks so different that Jongin barely recognizes him. But after a few seconds of inspection, his eyes widen when he realizes it’s the man he met, a couple of weeks ago, and who was looking for the King. Dressed in a Physician’s uniform, he looks nothing like the scruffy villager struggling to carry his belongings.

“Changwook-ssi, I’d like you to meet my children,” the King calmly says.

Utterly confused, Jongin looks at his father, wondering what this is all about.

“Prince Jongdae, and Princess Seohyun,” the Monarch continues, gesturing at the two elders. “And I was told you met the Crown Prince already.”

If he weren’t so baffled, Jongin would have probably laughed at the man’s reaction when his eyes land on him. Dismay is written all over his face, mixed with something Jongin can’t pinpoint. Before he has the time to identify it, however, the man, Changwook, is already bowing, respectfully greeting them one after the other.

“Changwook-ssi here has recently become one of our Royal Physician’s apprentice,” the King then says, tone still as composed.

Jongin usually gives himself the credit of understanding fairly easily his father’s motives behind most of his decisions. But as he watches the man straighten up, hands clasped behind his back, the whole situation only turns curiouser.

Why would the Kind introduce them to some random doctor student that just arrived at the palace when he has never done so, before? Jongin is almost certain there are at least a dozen of apprentices working at the _Naeuiwon_ , but none of them are allowed to treat the royal family, anyway. This task is the responsibility of the Royal Physician and the Royal Midwife.

His confusion, and likely his siblings’ as well, must be evident, because it doesn’t take long for the King to give them a proper explanation.

“He has shown very promising abilities in modern medicine,” he says, earning a grateful bow from the apprentice. “And will consequently help our Royal Physician taking care of our family’s health.”

_Our family_. Those are words Jongin doesn’t think he ever heard come out of his father’s mouth. And if the tense air surrounding him is any indication, Jongdae and Seohyun are just as taken aback as he is.

“I will do my best, Your Majesty.”

“I expect you to.”

“I will be eternally grateful for your trust,” the apprentice declares, earning a nod from the Monarch.

“That is all. You can go, now.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. Your Highnesses,” he adds with yet another bow, before walking out.

When the doors close, Jongin watches his father resume his dinner as if nothing had happened. The subtle shrug Seohyun offers him when he glances at her again is at least a bit comforting; he is not the only one finding the entire ordeal so strange.

Eventually, Jongin starts eating again as well, deciding he will have time later to think about it.

However, it’s only by sheer strength of will that he remains silent as he chokes on his seaweed soup when his father speaks up a few minutes later.

“Tell me, how is Yeonjoo doing?”

On his right, his sister faintly gasps. It’s not surprising; from what she told him, their father never cared much about his granddaughter.

“She-... She’s doing fine, Your Majesty,” Seohyun replies in a slightly shaky voice. “She can already recite nine of the Twenty-four Paragons of Filial Piety.”

Jongin mentally winces. He remembers learning those, back when he was Yeonjoo’s age, although hers must be somewhat different, coming from the _Female Twenty-four Filial Exemplars_ version of the text.

“Nine... “ the King says, looking pensive as he keeps eating. “How old is she?”

One more evidence that Seohyun is right about their father’s lack of interest for the little Princess.

“Six years old, Your Majesty.”

Eyes bulging out, Jongin is frozen as he watches the King slowly turn his eyes toward Jongdae, who just answered before Seohyun even had the time to do so.

What is his brother playing at?!

Blind or not, Jongin doubts the elder doesn’t feel the heavy stare coming from the King. Yet, when Jongin chances a glance in his direction, Jongdae’s face is calm, eyes fixed ahead.

Maybe Kyungsoo was right, and Jongin is really imagining things lately, because this entire dinner feels way too surreal not to be some kind of strange hallucination.

“I see,” their father says in a low voice. “And how are _you_ doing, Jongdae?”

“Really good, Your Majesty,” the Prince calmly replies, the shadow of his typical smile ghosting over the corners of his lips. “Jongin’s hybrid has been a great aid, recently. He helped me improve, so that I won’t be such a liability for you in the future.”

The air feels icy against Jongin’s skin. He is not sure why Jongdae thought it would be a good idea to bring Kyungsoo into the discussion, but the last part of his answer has cloaked the entire room with a glacial veil.

What is he supposed to do, now?

Is he even supposed to do anything at all?

His father rarely gets angry at him, but when it comes to Jongdae or Seohyun, Jongin has no idea what kind of reaction the King could have. He knows they both got way more than their fair share of punishments over the years, but he doesn’t think the King ever did more than just offhandedly order those.

The silence is suffocating as he waits, eyes focused on the table in front of him. But then, he is suddenly the one spoken to.

“Right, right. How are things progressing with it, son?”

The change in the tone is unsettling. The King almost sounds amused, now.

And somehow, this question is even more nerve-wracking than it was to wait for his father’s previous reaction. He can’t tell the truth; if the Monarch were to find out Kyungsoo had tried to escape so many times, who knows what he would do to him? Yet, Jongin knows he cannot lie either. The simple fact that he knew Jongin and the physician apprentice had met before is proof that the King has eyes everywhere.

Racking his mind, he tries to find something in between, that wouldn’t get Kyungsoo once again thrown in a cell, but also would not raise his father’s suspicion.

“He is...spirited,” he says, attempting to make it sound like neither a good nor a bad thing.

Rebellious and bad-tempered would probably be more accurate, though.

“Ha!”

The short, barking laughter makes Jongin jump, eyes widening.

“Indeed! It is a feisty one, isn’t it?”

Cautiously, Jongin nods, doing his best to keep his confused frown away from his brows.

“It fought well when we captured it,” the King continues, sounding oddly pleased.

Once again, the pronoun use is pricking at Jongin’s nape, but he swallows the urge to correct him. But he thinks about the King’s words, Kyungsoo voice comes back in his mind.

_Ask your father_.

Jongin doesn’t need to, though. His father answers without being questioned.

“We had to chase it for a while,” he says, voice showing pride. “It wasn’t alone. Another of his kind was with it,” he adds with a little laugh, cold and arrogant, that falls directly in the pit of Jongin’s stomach like a block of steel.

“Quite quarrelsome, too, that one. It wouldn’t stop defending your hybrid, son. I had to pierce it with many arrows to bring it down. It probably didn’t survive.”

Goosebumps covering his skin, Jongin stares at his father, an acrid taste scorching his throat. He can’t help the made-up images from flashing in his mind, of Kyungsoo seeing his friend get shot, again and again, trying to help and risking his own life. He must have been so scared.

Was it the reason they had managed to capture him? Was he so stunned to witness his friend on the verge of dying trying to protect him that he had let his guard down?

What had gone on in his head as they tied him up to a horse and took him away, leaving his friend to bleed in the snow?

“The villagers were not happy, but they didn’t say a word, of course.”

His ears are whistling, heart thumping against his rib cage. Everyone must be hearing it, in the freezing silence that fell down after the King’s last statement.

“Isn’t the tribe important for them?” Seohyun eventually asks.

“I heard they’re the last of their kind,” Jongdae adds.

Deep down, Jongin is grateful for his siblings’ intervention. They efficiently took the King’s attention away from him, giving him some time to get his composure back. He quickly blinks, pushing away the burning feeling in his eyes as he forces himself to breathe slowly.

“So it seems,” their father nods, and when his gaze comes back on Jongin, the Crown Prince is ready to face it. “You should be proud to own one of them.”

The verb resonates in his mind, reminding him of the conversation he had with Kyungsoo, what feels like so long ago. He can feel Seohyun’s eyes on him, and the tension coming from where Jongdae is seated.

Do they know what’s in his mind, at that moment? Probably not. He is not even sure himself. What he does know, is that arguing is not an option.

So, taking a deep breath, he gathers all his strength and compels his lips to curl up.

“I am. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

And as the King smiles back and resumes eating, Jongin realizes the father he respects so much is far crueler than he ever thought.


	7. Chapter 7

State finances are one of the most boring things Jongin has ever had to focus on. It even tops discussing land policies with Minister Gwon. Although, really, the old man’s monotonous drawl would put anyone to sleep even if he were talking about an impending war.

But the King decided, three weeks ago, that it was the right time to delegate more of his tasks to his son. And as much as Jongin had wanted to object, he had merely nodded and complied. It didn’t matter that he was still somewhat resentful after that horrible dinner, or that he thought there was no point in acting as if he were about to ascend the throne soon, when his father was perfectly healthy and more than capable of reigning. Refusing was not an option.

And it still isn’t, weeks later, as he reads an umpteenth document covered in names and numbers.

Kyungsoo is somewhere outside, probably enjoying the cool breeze before the rain comes again. Knowing he would be held up inside for hours, Jongin didn’t have the heart to force him to keep him company. He regrets it, now. He could use someone to distract him, even for a minute.

His eyes are burning as he flips yet another page. Whoever writes this records should really take a few calligraphy lessons. He sighs when he reads the significant amount of money that was sent to some magistrate the past month. This is not the first occurrence. He has seen the same name about five more times in the records from the previous year, and although the reason given for it this time is a raise, Jongin is no fool. He also found suspiciously consistent sums sent every few months to an unnamed person in some village up north, as well as questionable deliveries made to a high-ranked soldier in Cheokgil. The justification always seems a little too normal, and it’s not hard to figure out what is really going on.

Being the King puts you in the precarious situation of having enemies ready to do anything to bring you down. But it also gives you the possibility to use money to make sure they won’t. And as a general rule, people are always more inclined to agree with you after you slip a few extra coins in their pockets.

Jongin has known this for a while, now; bribery and corruption are a familiar concept for his father. A familiar, and familial one. From what he heard, his grandfather was no stranger to those either.

Of course, he would like to think he’ll do better when his time comes to rule the kingdom, but deep down, he knows this is a necessary evil. He might not even have a choice. His father must have a good reason for buying off those people, and Jongin will likely have to carry on their arrangements.

After another hour wearing away his eyes on the scrawled characters, Jongin decides it’s been enough for the day. He winces as he stretches his back, sore not only because he remained seated in the same position for five hours, but also as a direct consequence of his combat training in the morning.

That’s another thing the King instructed: more frequent, longer, and tougher military training.

Covered in bruises, Jongin’s body is rarely free from pain, lately, and Changwook-ssi, with the approval of the Royal Physician, had to prescribe herbal remedies and ointments to relieve him from the ever-constant aches. It doesn’t work as much as he would like, though, and sometimes makes him too sleepy to function, forcing him to forgo taking them, lest he dozes off in the middle of a meeting with the ministers.

Yawning as he rubs his eyes, Jongin vaguely considers going back to his pavilion to take a short nap before dinner, before deciding against it. With his new busy schedule, he hasn’t spent much time with Kyungsoo in the past weeks, and although he would never admit it out loud, he misses it.

The rain season has already started, and for a week already, the pattern has been the same, with the humidity rising throughout the day, and downpours beginning at the end of the afternoon. If he finds the hybrid quickly, they might be able to walk in the gardens for a little while before the sky starts spilling. He is not sure what Kyungsoo really does when they’re not together, but it shouldn’t be too hard to locate him.

He might actually be with Jongdae. Again.

Grumpy at the thought, Jongin exits his private study and starts looking for them. The air is hot and heavy as he heads over to his brother’s living quarters, making each of his breath feel uncomfortable.

When he reaches his destination, neither Kyungsoo nor Jongdae is anywhere in sight, so, with a sigh, Jongin turns around and keeps searching.

Surprisingly, it’s not his brother he finds Kyungsoo with. The hybrid is seated on the stairs leading to Seohyun’s pavilion, Yeonjoo behind him, her small hands tangled in silver hair and little white flowers stuck between her pursed lips.

Apple blossoms, Jongin recognizes, meaning she ventured near the pond again, despite not being allowed to.

It barely takes a second for the feline’s nose to twitch before his eyes lands on Jongin. He doesn’t move, however, letting the little girl continue what she’s doing. Jongin smiles when he sees Kyungsoo’s ear flap as the strand Yeonjoo brings up grazes it. For a few minutes, she keeps working, adding flowers in the messy braid she attempted, before tying a blue ribbon at the end.

Visibly pleased, she leans back, a gap-toothed grin blooming on her mouth.

“Now it’s pretty again!” she chirps. “You can’t touch it, all right?”

“I won’t,” Kyungsoo quietly replies, the shadow of a smile curling his lips up as he stands and turns around to face her. “Thank you, little Princess.”

“You’re welcome!”

“What is going on, here?” Jongin finally says, stepping forward to get closer.

“Uncle Jongin! Look! I put flowers in his hair!”

“I can see that,” he chuckles, ignoring the soreness in his muscles to bend down and pick up one of the discarded apple blossoms. “It looks nice,” he says, glancing at Kyungsoo.

“Thank you,” Yeonjoo answers, sounding just as proud as she looks.

“You never did my hair,” Jongin says, adding a pout for good measure.

“Your hair is black. It’s _boring_.”

Squinting his eyes, he is about to pinch her cheek when he hears Kyungsoo try to conceal a snort.

“Great, now you two are teaming up to make fun of me?”

“We wouldn’t dare, _Your Royal Highness_ ,” Kyungsoo smoothly replies with a mock curtsy.

At Yeonjoo’s high-pitched giggles, Jongin’s makes a tutting noise, shaking his head. He is still smiling, though; if anyone can laugh at him without irritating him, it’s those two.

“Since you’re done, is it okay if I steal Kyungsoo, now?”

“Well, he’s not _my_ hybrid,” she states with a shrug.

In the corner of his vision, he sees Kyungsoo freeze at the same time he does. The wording is clumsy, and she means no harm, but Jongin feels like he needs to correct her.

So, reaching out to brush the top of her head, he offers her an indulgent smile.

“He’s not mine either, Yeonjoo,” he says, deciding to ignore Kyungsoo’s eyes he can feel on the side of his face. “He is his own.”

For a few seconds, his niece looks pensive as her eyes switch between the two of them. He knows his statement must have risen many questions he wouldn’t even know how to answer. But surprisingly, instead of asking what he means, her gaze stops on Kyungsoo, and she gives him a small, contrite smile.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

She must deem her apology not good enough, though, because suddenly, she’s picking another apple blossom from the stairs, and handing it to the snow leopard. With a small smile, Kyungsoo lets her drop the flower in his palm before nodding.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I have to go now,” she says, giving a bow of his head at them both. “Grandma is going to be mad. I didn’t finish my readings for today,” she adds with a grimace.

“Uh oh, you should hurry then,” Jongin chuckles.

As if on cue, Seohyun’s mother’s voice echoes from inside, calling Yeonjoo’s name, and Jongin watches the little girl almost trip as she runs up the stairs, waving back at her right before she disappears inside.

The silence is awkward between Kyungsoo and him, and he can feel the hybrid’s eyes still fixed on him. So, to avoid saying something stupid, Jongin turns on his heels and looks ahead.

“I wanted to have a walk in the gardens. Do you want to join me?”

He has to wait a little too long for his liking before Kyungsoo replies, but eventually, the feline does in a quiet voice.

“Sure.”

 

The recent downpours have damaged the flowers. Yet, they’re still welcomed by vibrant colors as they walk along the footway. Kyungsoo is walking by his side, this time, fingers playing with the blossom he was offered. He looks calm, almost serene, but Jongin knows Yeonjoo’s words have not left him indifferent.

He would like to tell him she did not mean it that way, but not only would that be a lie, it would also not help to change his mind.

“Do you have siblings?” he ends up asking, earning a raised brow from the hybrid. “I mean, you told me your youngest sister plays with your hair, sometimes,” he explains, not sure why he decided to use the present tense.

“She does,” Kyungsoo replies, sounding a bit cautious.

“Do you have more than one?”

“Yes.”

“What are their names?”

This time, Jongin gets a skeptical look thrown his way.

“Why? Are you going to give them new ones, too?”

Admittedly, his response is only fair, considering everything, but it doesn’t sting any less.

“Fine. How old are they, then?” he tries again. “I can’t give them new ages,” he mumbles when he hears Kyungsoo sigh.

Judging by the glare burning his side profile, this was probably not the right thing to say.

“Who is the closest in age to you?” he insists, growing curious and not wanting to drop the topic.

It takes a few seconds, but eventually, after sighing again, Kyungsoo gives him an answer.

“Both my older and younger sister.”

“Really? How old are they?”

As the question leaves his mouth, Jongin realizes he doesn’t even know how old _Kyungsoo_ is.

“Twenty-three and seventeen.”

Quickly doing the math in his head, Jongin’s steps falter when he deduces the hybrid is only one year older than him.

“The twins are fifteen, by now,” Kyungsoo continues, surprising him. “And the youngest will turn eleven at the end of summer.”

The longing in his voice is hardly concealed, and Jongin feels his stomach uncomfortably stir until his mind finally processes the words.

“Wait, you have five sisters?!”

“Six.”

This time, the answer is sharp, and his face has suddenly turned severe. Something obviously happened to the sixth one, but it’s probably not a good idea to ask about it.

“Any brother?” Jongin inquires instead, keeping his tone somewhat light.

“One. He is twenty-five,” the hybrid adds before Jongin has the time to ask.

It’s a small victory, really, to get him to share personal things every now and then. Of course, it’s rarely spontaneous, and Jongin usually needs to squeeze the answers out of him. But most of the time now, he does reply, even if only to get Jongin to stop asking. It’s progress, anyway.

He doesn’t want to push the hybrid’s boundaries too far, however, so, Jongin decides it’s his turn to share.

“I had more siblings,” he says as they pass by the magnolia shrubs. “Younger ones. My father had more children, with the women he married after my mother,” he adds, hearing his own voice waver at the last word. “She had already passed away, by then…”

Since they’re walking close, he can feel the moment Kyungsoo’s body tenses. He braces himself for the question that will inevitably ensue, quietly clearing his throat to make sure his vocal cords won’t betray him. Or at least not too pathetically.

“What happened to them?”

Eyes flickering to his side, he stares in surprise at Kyungsoo. This is definitely not what he expected to be asked.

“Some were stillborn,” Jongin replies gravely. “Other passed when they were still infants. None of them reached a year old.”

“How many?” Kyungsoo asks, sounding genuinely saddened.

“Seven that I know of. We might have not been informed about all of them since it kept happening.”

Of course, Jongin never asked for details about it, but he has always had a suspicion this might come from his father. After all, he is the common denominator between all those children. He does know, however, that this is why he is so important. With the King’s inability to produce any more viable heir, Jongin is the last hope to keep their family on the throne.

What started as a discussion to change Kyungsoo’s mind has now turned rather somber, and Jongin is wondering if he can salvage the situation and get the hybrid to smile again when a loud buzzing rings right against his left ear.

The shriek he lets out is anything but princely, and the next second he is ducking, rushing to hide behind Kyungsoo. When the hybrid tries to turn around to look at him, Jongin quickly grabs the back of his tunic to keep him as a barrier from his assailant.

It wasn’t on purpose, and Jongin would have gladly avoided this, but the situation does have the merit of extracting a snort out of Kyungsoo.

“It is just a _wasp_ ,” the hybrid says, not even attempting to conceal how absurd the Crown Prince’s reaction is to him.

“I got stung by a lot of them when I was younger!” Jongin raves, yelping as the bug flies closer to him and dragging Kyungsoo with him as he turns and shuffles. “I think they passed on their hate for me through generations!”

“You’re ridiculous,” the hybrid says, now laughing as he lets himself be tugged around like a puppet.

“Look! It’s following me!”

“All right. Just let me go for a second.”

To his credit, the snow leopard remains patient as Jongin pulls him a few more times before finally releasing him. And the next moment, with one swift motion, the wasp ends up inside Kyungsoo’s loosely closed hand. Jongin watches him walk toward a tree and calmly open his fist against a leaf. When the scary bug simply starts walking on the green surface, Kyungsoo glances over his shoulder.

“See? You don’t need to be scared. Wasps are nice.”

“The memory of my swollen body would beg to differ.”

“What did you do? They don’t attack without reason.”

“I shot their nest,” Jongin grumbles, earning a pointed look. “I didn’t do anything to this one!” he protests, gesturing at the insect nonchalantly flapping its wings, still resting on the leaf.

“All right. Let’s just keep walking,” Kyungsoo says, rolling his eyes despite the smile curling his lips. “Before a mosquito tries to eat you.”

“Mosquitoes hate me, too,” Jongin says, staying on the opposite side of the footway as he gets past the tree. “Actually, no. They like me a little too much,” he corrects himself, hearing Kyungsoo snorts again. “They’re vicious. I hate the rain season.”

When Kyungsoo mutters a word in the tribe’s language, this time, Jongin doesn’t ask what it means. The tone is teasing, letting him know it’s about him, but he doesn’t really care. Nor does he really mind the few raindrops hitting him before they make it back to his living quarters.

Kyungsoo is smiling; this is enough.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Jongin is not used to tuning out his preceptor. The old man’s lessons are always interesting, no matter how boring the subject they cover is. That morning, however, the Analects of Confucius are far less fascinating than the snow leopard hybrid seated on the opposite side of the room, gazing through the open window. Two weeks have passed, and Yeonjoo’s work is long gone, the silver strands back framing his face, save from one thin braid that managed to hold on, somehow.

The soft light coming from the grey sky is casting diffused shadows on his features, softening his thoughtful expression. Even the scars on his cheek and neck look more like pale tattoos, complimenting the black lines rising beyond the collar of his tunic. Jongin feels his lips twitch every time Kyungsoo’s nose flickers in response to whatever smell floated through the window.

“Your Highness?”

Opalescent eyes lock with his own, surprise gleaming in them.

Startled, Jongin hurriedly looks back at his preceptor, eyes widen as a wave of cold sweat run down his body.

“Yes?”

“Have you even heard a word of what I said?”

He hasn’t. But he can’t exactly admit it out loud so openly. It seems like he hadn’t been as subtle as he thought.

“I got distracted,” he merely says, not pointing out that it happened quite a while ago.

“It would seem so, indeed. Let’s backtrack a little. And please, pay attention.”

He doesn’t look, nor sound upset at the lack of attention, but Jongin doesn’t want to chance it. So he nods and tries to concentrate, even if he lost the thread early on during the lesson.

“So, the phrases about the six distortions,” the old man says, pausing to make sure Jongin is focusing. “If you love being kind to others, but do not love learning, then your kindness will be distorted into ignorance,” he recites. “If you love wisdom, but do not love learning, then your wisdom will be distorted into aimlessness.”

With another nod, Jongin does his best to remain immersed in Confucius’ words, despite the corner of his eyes catching the movement of Kyungsoo’s tail lightly flapping against the wooden floor with a soft sound. Something nice outside has clearly grabbed the hybrid’s attention. He wants to know what it is.

“If you love trustworthiness, but do not love learning, then your trust will be distorted into harm,” the man continues, and Jongin has to fight the urge of looking at the snow leopard and keep his gaze on the old man. “If you love candor, but do not love learning, your candor will be distorted into rudeness.”

This morning again, Jongin told Kyungsoo he didn’t have to stay for his private lesson. The end of June brought a new rain pattern, where it poured from mid-afternoon up to early morning, and the only moments anyone can really be outside without getting drenched happen to be during his lessons and military training.

Yet, for the ninth lesson in a row, Kyungsoo refused, telling him he didn’t mind, because he found the teachings interesting. From what Jongin can see as he looks at him, at the moment, the hybrid seems more interested by what is going on beyond the window.

“If you love valor, but do not love learning, you valor will be distorted into unruliness.”

As Jongin’s gaze traces the black rim surrounding Kyungsoo’s eyes, making their pale color stand out even more in the cool daylight, the feline’s head suddenly snaps toward him.

Eyes locked, Jongin’s lips unconsciously curl up. He doesn’t have to wait long before his smile is returned, although Kyungsoo does look somewhat amused, one brow raising as he slightly tilts his head on the side.

“If you love incorruptibility, but do not love learning, your incorruptibility will be distorted into recklessness.”

The thin strand of silver hair gliding against the hybrid’s cheek does look reckless, indeed, swaying with the warm, damp breeze and getting caught in Kyungsoo’s short eyelashes.

A second brow goes up, and Jongin’s smile widens, mimicking the motion with his own as if asking what Kyungsoo is so clearly amused by.

His heart misses a beat when someone loudly clears their throat, making him jump on his chair. Ignoring Kyungsoo’s snort, Jongin sheepishly looks back at his preceptor, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Would you care to repeat what I just said, Your Highness?”

“Something about...being reckless?”

The poorly hidden chortle on the opposite side of the room does very little to help him feeling less embarrassed when his tutor shakes his head with a sigh.

“I think it would be better to end things here for the day,” the man says, closing the heavy book in front of him.

“No, I-… I just…” Jongin trails, not really knowing what to say as he feels his cheeks heat up.

“You won’t be learning anything if your mind wanders elsewhere, Your Highness,” his preceptor says, his expression softening. “I believe you don’t have any military training, today. So, go for now, and we will pick up where we left off tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, contrite.

“Don’t be. You both seem to need some free time.”

It would be lying to say the opposite, so, with an apologetic smile, Jongin nods, before glancing at Kyungsoo, who is already looking at him expectantly, ready to stand as soon as Jongin hints at it.

“Let’s go?”

Like he predicted, he is on his feet and already heading for the door before Jongin has even had the time to close his own book. None of them were really interested in today’s lesson, obviously.

 

“What were you so distracted about?” Jongin asks as they round the building they just left.

“Me?” Kyungsoo chuckles. “What were _you_ so distracted about? Your professor wasted so much energy to get you to listen.”

_You_.

That’s what Jongin would have answered if he weren’t such a coward. But the consequences of this simple word are frightening him. There is too much weight, too much implication in those mere three letters. He barely has admitted to himself that the connection he has with Kyungsoo goes beyond what it’s supposed to. That something in him compels him to seek every single smile the hybrid has to offer. That sometimes, his breath hitches and his heart skips when the feline looks back at him. That somehow, things fall into place, and the burden on his shoulders lightens when they walk side by side.

Jongin is too scared to put a word on what he feels. But even if he could, he knows this is something he cannot, and _should not_ , ever say out loud.

So, with all the nonchalance he can muster, he merely shrugs.

“I’m just tired. The thunder didn’t let me get much sleep.”

It’s not exactly a lie; the loud rumbles did wake him up several times, although it was definitely not enough to hinder his aching body to fall right back asleep.

“Do you want to rest, then?”

“No,” he replies a little too quickly, not really wanting to be alone in his room, where he will undoubtedly start overthinking. “Can we just walk around for a bit? It’ll help with the soreness.”

It’s not hard to guess why Kyungsoo’s brows are furrowed. Jongin himself is not sure when he started asking for his opinion or approval before doing certain things.

He shouldn’t.

First, because if his father were to hear about it, this could end badly. He had already made it clear how much he disliked seeing his son spending so much time with the snow leopard.

“I told you to tame it. Not to befriend it,” he had said a few mornings ago, and Jongin had sunk his teeth so hard in his cheek to avoid talking back that a metallic taste had ended up invading his mouth.

But more than that, acting that way with Kyungsoo is only further blurring the lines he already struggles to perceive. And he knows this is not a good thing.

“Sure,” the hybrid replies nonetheless, albeit still looking a bit weirded out. “The gardens?”

There is no way for Kyungsoo to know why Jongin likes the palace gardens; he doubts anyone ever told him about the Crown Prince’s mother. Yet, the simple fact that the hybrid noticed he enjoys spending time there is making his stomach oddly stir.

The feline has this way of doing and saying things that only make Jongin yearn for more. But in the end, what keeps drawing him in is that he doesn’t even seem to _see_ the crown on his head. When everyone would drop on their knees, Kyungsoo stands tall and glares. When everyone would bow and profusely apologize, Kyungsoo smirks and talks back.

For the first time in Jongin’s life, someone finally doesn’t seem to care. He never even used his title other than to make fun of him.

And it makes him forget.

Forget the weight this title holds. Forget how lonely he feels. Forget those invisible chains keeping him prisoner.

And sometimes, it even makes him forget the healed scars on the hybrid’s wrists, from real shackles.

It makes him forget that Kyungsoo doesn’t want to be here and that he would leave in the blink of an eye if he could.

Feeling his throat constrict at the thought, and knowing his voice might wobble if he tries speaking, Jongin only hums in agreement as he nods.

There is some agitation in the inner court, and as they walk across the vast space, Jongin even spots some domestics he has never seen before. Both the court ladies’ clothes and the soldiers’ uniforms look slightly different from the ones he is used to, and he frowns, wondering why he hasn’t been informed an envoy from another kingdom would visit Yangkwang’s palace.

There are a few hybrids as well, too elegantly dressed to come from Pyungpo. Which leaves either Sinjae, with whom Yangkwang has known some tensions with for quite some time, or Yeosan, whose Queen absolutely despises Jongin’s father.

None of those options is really better than the other, and he mentally reminds himself to inquire about it, later in the day.

 

The poor plants are in such bad shape that Jongin almost feels bad for them. It always happens during the monsoon, yet, this year, the damages seem worse than usual.

When they pass in front of the bench he and Kyungsoo sat on together to eat, so long ago, Jongin’s eyes unconsciously shift to the side of the footway, heart panging when he sees the state of the lone crocus.

The Japanese painted fern has done nothing to shield it from the elements, and he can’t help but crouching in front of the battered flower, fingers reaching out to delicately lift its corolla.

“You don’t look so strong anymore,” he whispers, thumb gently brushing against one sad purple petal.

“What is it called?” Kyungsoo’s voice asked, so close that it startles him.

The hybrid has crouched right beside him and is staring at the crippled flower with a somewhat saddened expression.

“A crocus,” Jongin replies, ever so slightly turning it so Kyungsoo can see it better. “They were my mother’s favorite.”

“It’s pretty.”

“You must have seen more. She had them planted all over the gardens,” Jongin continues after nodding. “But this one ended up all alone…”

He still remembers the parallel his mind made the last time he saw the flower, and somehow, it seems to remain just as relevant as it was back then.

On its own, the flower dwindled, wasting its energy as it tried to hold on. Eventually, it gave up.

Jongin’s eyes are burning when he throws an accusing look at the fern leaves.

“You should have protected it.”

Despite being just above a murmur, Kyungsoo still seems to catch his words, and Jongin feels him steal a glance at his face, before looking back at the crocus.

“It survived.”

“Barely.”

“Still. It will grow again,” Kyungsoo insists, clearly having no idea Jongin is not only talking about the flower anymore.

“It shouldn’t be apart from its kin.”

“No. But there’s nothing you can do about that. It will die if you try to move it.”

With a sad smile, Jongin nods, watching the stem heavily slump when he releases the corolla.

This is where the parallel ends, he guesses.

He _could_ do something about Kyungsoo. And far from withering, back with his people, the hybrid would thrive.

When footsteps reach his ears, Jongin pushes himself up, wincing at the severe strain in his muscles, before turning to see who is coming toward them.

She looks just like a crocus, somehow, with her green _chima_ and light purple _dangui_. Even the yellow _otgoreum_ reminds of the flower’s stigma.

And she surely is just as pretty as a flower, with round cheeks, small but plump lips, and almond-shaped eyes lightly closing as she shyly smiles at him.

“Good morning, Your Royal Highness,” she says, bowing with the grace of a fairy, her long dark braid sliding on the front of her shoulder.

Jongin is certain he doesn’t know her, but of course, in his gonryongpo, it was not hard for the young woman to recognize him. Judging by her clothes, however, as well as the court ladies following her, he can at least tell she is from a royal family.

When he feels Kyungsoo step forward to stand almost by his side, Jongin remembers he is supposed to answer.

“Who are you?”

Not the politest, admittedly, but better than nothing, he supposes. She doesn’t seem offended, anyway, if the soft smile on her lips is any indication.

“Ah, I know I was not supposed to be here before the end of summer,” she says, her voice light as she bows her head. “But I could not wait to meet you. My brother agreed it would be a good thing for us to meet a bit earlier, so that we can get to know each other.”

“Earlier?” Jongin asks, a little too baffled for his liking, before adding, as an afterthought: “Wait, what is your name?”

For a moment, she looks just as lost as he feels, her dark eyes fluttering between Jongin and Kyungsoo, before she briefly glances behind at one of her court ladies, brows slightly raised.

“My name is Eunha, Your Highness,” she tells him with a tinge of nervousness in her tone. “Has His Majesty not informed you I would arrive sooner?”

“Sooner than what?”

As much as he can remember, his father didn’t mention anyone visiting the palace. The last few times they spoke, it had only been about taxes matters.

“Has he not informed you at all?” she asks, now looking distressed.

He should probably try to conceal how puzzled he is, but feeling Kyungsoo’s eyes shifting between the short girl and him is far from helping. If even the hybrid is uncomfortable, it certainly doesn’t bode well for what might come next.

And he is proven right when, most likely noticing his confusion, a contrite smile appears on her lips before she speaks again.

“I am your future spouse, my Prince. We are to wed in late autumn.”

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

“What is this?” the King asks, brows raised when Jongin barges in the Throne Hall, ignoring the frantic Hoseong rushing after him.

“I need to talk to you,” Jongin replies, doing his best to control the anger in his voice. “In private,” he adds as the few ministers present in the room start speaking among themselves in hushed voices.

Weighing him up with narrowed eyes, his father stays silent for a long time, before eventually dismissing everyone. Teeth gritted, Jongin waits for the doors to close behind them, his fists clenched by his sides.

“Please, do tell,” the Monarch says in a composed, yet displeased tone. “What could have possibly provoked such an irreverent disruption?”

Under any other circumstances, Jongin would’ve instantly apologized. Or rather, he would have never even stomped in that way, to begin with.

But after his mind had finally processed what the girl had told him, his blood had suddenly started boiling, and not even bothering to answer, Jongin had abruptly whirled around and marched to meet his father.

His ingress had been anything but polite, but he couldn’t care less.

“Why is there a girl claiming we are betrothed?”

“Ah, you met Princess Eunha,” the King says, his stern expression turning contemplative. “She came to pay me her respects, earlier. Doesn’t she look like a flower? I know you like pretty little things like her.”

Somehow, in his father’s mouth, the compliment sounds anything but flattering, oddly reminding Jongin of how King Taegeun spoke about his _dearests_. At the memory, his fists tighten.

“I don’t care how pretty she is.”

“Don’t you, now?” his father says with an unamused chuckle. “Have I been wrongly informed? I was told fragile little creature tend to earn your favors. ”

At this point, Jongin is not sure what is disgusting him the most. Hearing his father talk about someone like this, or finding out he has been keeping an eye on who his son had bedded in the past.

 “What is she doing here?” he spits in a low voice.

“Watch your tone. Don’t forget who you are addressing.”

“Since when have you been planning this?” Jongin asks, disregarding the barely concealed threat. “And why am I only hearing about it _now_?”

“You are nineteen, you should have been married already,” his father states, straightening his back and looking down at him. “I gave you more than enough time to enjoy the pleasures of life, and I kept my mouth shut about those boys you fooled around with. But you now need to give the kingdom an heir in order to secure the throne.”

“Is this all I am to you?” Jongin asks, feeling his heart clench. “The Crown Prince, whose sole purpose is to keep our family on the throne?”

“This is who you are, Jongin.”

“No. It’s not. I’m also your son.”

“What is this nonsense?” the King says, irritation slowly painting his face. “Is such insubordination coming from that hybrid? I thought I told you to stop spending so much time with it.”

“ _He_ has nothing to do with all this,” Jongin says through gritted teeth. “You are just not-”

“Because you _are_ my son, I will give you the chance to stop talking now and leave before you go too far,” the King says, his tone so measured that goosebumps rise on Jongin’s skin. “But let me be clear. This union is not up for debate. You will be married, and I will not tolerate any more disobedient behavior from you.”

The threat is clear, as much in his voice as on his traits and stance.

“You,” his father sharply calls, looking at someone behind Jongin. “Lead the Crown Prince back to his living quarters. And make sure he remains there for the rest of the day.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Hoseong? Has he been here all along? Why didn’t he leave with all the others?

Feeling sick, he doesn’t bother bowing or even looking at the King, and silently follows Hoseong out of the room.

The ministers are all right outside the doors, throwing him poorly concealed offended looks as he passes by them. It’s only when he spots Kyungsoo, a few steps away from the little crowd, that his clenched hands loosen a bit, palms stinging where his nails kept digging into the skin.

The snow leopard is looking back at him with furrowed brows.

“You don’t have to follow me, Hoseong,” Jongin says, eyes still locked with Kyungsoo’s. “I’ll do what His Majesty ordered,” he adds, voice strained as he pronounces the King’s title.

At this moment, he doesn’t feel like calling him his father.

For the past month, Jongin has managed to get his cortège of eunuchs and court ladies to stop following him everywhere. They still do whenever he has to go to important meetings, where people might question why he is alone if he shows up by himself. But during his free time, they relented to letting him be on his own, as long as Kyungsoo is there.

This time, however, Hoseong doesn’t seem willing to do so, most likely being afraid to disobey the King’s command. Jongin can’t blame him; he would probably be as well if he were him. So, with a sigh, he keeps walking, seeing Kyungsoo fall into step with them without a word, despite his frown still being there.

The inner court is calmer now, and yet, Jongin feels his body tense up again when his eyes catch sight of the Princess, wandering by the King’s private library, cheerfully chatting with her court ladies as she looks around her in evident awe. Somehow, in Jongin’s mind, she doesn’t seem as pretty, now. As if knowing who she is, and why she’s here had covered her with a veil depicting everything Jongin has always wanted to run away from, enough for him to glare at her when she sees him and smiles, before he briskly walks away.

His sore muscles are screaming from the fast pace, but he doesn’t stop, forcing Hoseong to nearly trot behind him.

They’re rounding the eunuchs’ quarters when Jongin hears the familiar rhythmic tapping sound, coming from right behind the corner. A second later, the probing cane appears, soon followed by the hand holding it, until Jongdae steps into view, his cloudy eyes looking almost entirely white in the pallid daylight.

And like a snap in his head, all those years of rancor hit him like a tidal wave, knocking the air out of him and boiling so strong that his insides might have very well been scorched instantly.

“Good morning, little brother!” Jongdae greets with that never-changing smile on his face.

The evident good spirit acts like wind on glowing embers, kindling Jongin’s irritation and turning it into pure anger. Before he even knows what he is doing, his shoulder has already collided with Jongdae’s, violently enough to send the elder crashing down on the paved ground.

It’s only a few meters away that he abruptly stops, turning around so quickly that his nape cracks, when he hears Kyungsoo’s voice.

“Are you all right?” he asks, hands on Jongdae’s arms as he helps him sit up. “Are you hurt?”

His voice holds the same worry Jongin heard that day on the training grounds, and in an instant, as the flames in his chest lick down the walls of his heart, he is retracing his steps, backtracking until he stands near the hybrid.

One hand around Kyungsoo’s elbow, the other on Jongdae’s forearm, Jongin yanks them apart, pulling the feline on his feet and pushing his brother back down. Then, ignoring the hybrid’s protests, he marches away, not stopping until they’re both in his pavilion and Hoseong has closed the door from outside.

It doesn’t take long before Kyungsoo wrenches his arm free from Jongin’s tight grip, the same fire in his eyes that Jongin feels searing in his guts.

“Why did you do that?” the hybrid barks, voice barely away from a growl.

Fuming, Jongin glowers at him, unable to understand why Kyungsoo seems to be mad at _him_. His thoughts are a blazing mess, sizzling as they clash against each other, making him lose his sense of reality.

“Do I need to remind you that you’re supposed to protect _me_?” he spits, hands back into fists.

“Being so cruel with your brother doesn’t make me want to protect you, _Your Highness_.”

“Don’t call me like that.”

“You’re irrational. Why are you so mad?” Kyungsoo asks, ignoring him.

“He wants me to marry that girl!”

“I am talking about your brother. Every time you see him, your face completely changes,” the hybrid continues, eyes narrowed, and ears turned to the side. “It’s like you’re mad at him for being the way he is.”

“Of course I am! Everything is his fault!”

“How could your situation be his fault? He didn’t ask to lose his sight.”

“And I didn’t ask to be born!” Jongin counters. “ _He_ is the reason I’m alive! The reason I have to carry this burden I never wanted!”

“You’re unfair.”

“I beg your pardon? I was only born because they needed a new Crown Prince! Isn’t this unfair for _me_?”

“You’re right,” Kyungsoo nods, looking at him dead in the eyes. “This is why you were brought into this world. But so was your brother. And your sister. They just didn’t fit the role.”

“It doesn’t change anything! I’m still the one who has to live with it!”

“You act like a spoiled child…”

The words are pronounced in a low voice, not much above a whisper, despite the apparent aversion Kyungsoo infused in his tone. Yet, they hit Jongin as hard as if the hybrid had just punched him in the abdomen, leaving him both breathless and speechless as he stares at the snow leopard, eyes burning.

Kyungsoo doesn’t seem to notice, however, because he keeps going.

“You take advantage of everything given to you, but you reject the only reason that keeps you on that pedestal.”

“Stop…” Jongin breathes, but his murmur gets ignored.

“You’re just scared of what would happen if you told anyone you don’t want to be King.”

“Stop.”

“But you’re even more terrified of what _will_ happen if you stay quiet and end up on that throne.”

“I said _stop_!”

“You won’t be able to hide, then. There will be no one else to blame for your mistakes. Nowhere to run away like a selfish coward.”

Once again, the words feel like a blow, right in the chest, making his voice come out in a wavering breath.

“Please…”

“What will you do, then, Your Highness?”

“I told you not to call me like that…” Jongin says, trying to contain the tears pooling in his eyes.

“Why not? This is what you are.”

“I shouldn’t have to!” he exclaims, sounding pathetic and weak even to his own ears. “I don’t _want_ to…”

“Then why are you not fighting against it?!”

And this question, almost shouted at him, seems to be what finally makes all his walls crumble down.

“Because of her!” he yells, voice cracking as he physically stumbles back from the force of his emotions and collides with a lacquered cabinet, knocking off a jade sculpture that crashes on the floor. “I’m doing this for her!”

The silence following his scream is oppressive, almost suffocating. Either as a consequence of the words that probably make no sense to him or because of the tears now streaming down Jongin’s face, Kyungsoo has stilled, face turned impassive as he stares.

Vision blurry, Jongin shuts his eyes as he catches his breath, before letting himself slide against the cabinet until his knees touch the floor.

“For who?” Kyungsoo eventually asks after long minutes have passed, his voice deep and much calmer than it was before.

And Jongin has never told this to anyone, but as he stays unmoving on the ground, head hanging low, he can’t find the strength to pretend anymore.

“My mother,” he croaks out before biting the inside of his cheek.

Eyes still closed, he doesn’t hear Kyungsoo approaching, and it’s only when he feels a knee bump into his own that he finally looks up.

“Why?”

He is frowning ever so lightly as his eyes steal a glance at Jongin’s trembling lips, but waits patiently.

And once again, as much as Jongin would like to lock everything back in the corner of his mind reserved for the memories of his mother, he knows he can’t. Not now that the façade has fallen, letting all the guilt and resentment for himself flow out and submerge him.

“She wanted me to be king,” he starts, voice hoarse and strained as he tries to at least prevent more tears from coming out. “I didn’t care about it. I didn’t understand what it truly implied. Like you said...I was just taking advantage of my position to order people around, and get whatever I wanted. But my mother… She would always try to bring me back in the right direction.”

He pauses to sniff, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand.

“She would tell me to stop being selfish. To stop acting like a spoiled child,” he continues, seeing Kyungsoo’s lips purse for a second. “She would tell me people were counting on me, and that I needed to be an example. That I wasn’t only her child, but the entire kingdom’s son as well. And that, because of this responsibility, I had to be deserving of the trust they had in me.”

Through the blur, Jongin sees Kyungsoo nod, as if to tell him it was all right to talk about it.

“I never listened. All I heard was that I couldn’t do whatever I wanted…” he says, shaking his head as new tears spill out. “No matter what she told me, I just didn’t care. I didn’t want to be King. I just wanted to be treated as one, even by her. Yet, she never held it against me. She scolded me, of course, when I was too capricious, but she never got angry at me… Then one day, she fell sick.”

His throat painfully constricted, Jongin pauses again, gulping down as his breathing picks up.

“At first, they thought it was a simple cold. No one worried, not even her. But the more days passed, the worse she got. To the point of not being able to leave her bed anymore…”

The vivid memories flashing in his mind make him choke. Tired eyes and cracked-lipped smiles, hoarse voice and colorless cheeks; it’s almost as if she were right in front of him every time he blinks.

“How old were you?” Kyungsoo asks, probably predicting how it ended.

“Twelve… I was an idiot. I was _furious_ at her because she had promised we would go to the market together, when she couldn’t even stand on her legs,” Jongin says, jaw shaking as he tries to get the words out. “The next day, she called me after my lesson, and she brought it up again. She told me I had to be strong, that I had to be the king our people deserved. She said she wouldn’t be there forever, but that I had to be good. To make her _proud_.”

He knows he must look like a mess, with bloodshot eyes and snot running from his nose.

“I think she knew what would happen to her soon… And that’s why she insisted more than usual. But I was already angry at her, for breaking her promise, and hearing this only made it worse. I screamed at her, and I left.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, his mother’s voice feebly calling his name as she stomped out of her bedroom rings in his mind. She was exhausted, using what was left of her energy to beg him to come back. Yet, he didn’t listen.

When he feels a light weight on his lap, Jongin’s lids flutter open, blurred gaze falling on Kyungsoo’s tail, resting on his knees, as if to comfort him, to give him the strength to finish the tragic story.

Taking a deep breath, he lets his fingertips delicately touch the fur.

“A few hours later, one of her court ladies came to find me and told me she was asking for me. But I was so mad… I told her… I told her to leave… That I…that I didn’t want to see my mother…” he stammers, feeling the tail wrapping around his hand as a continuous flow of tears cascade down his cheeks, gathering under his chin. “And I hid, so no one would bother me with this again.”

The sob forcing him to stop comes out on its own, and Jongin grits his teeth, chest jerking with his erratic breaths.

“I came out of my hiding place hours later, because I was _hungry_ ,” he says with a self-loathing scoff. “Noonim’s mother found me first, on my way to the kitchens… She didn’t give me a choice. She ignored my protests and dragged me to my mother’s room. I didn’t know…”

Eyes shut again, another sob resonates in the room, and suddenly, warm fingers replace the fur against his palm. Instinctively, Jongin’s hand tightens around Kyungsoo’s, holding onto it like to a lifeline.

“I wasn’t there,” he says, voice crumbling. “She asked for me… She asked for me, and I hid because I was angry at her… And then she died...and I wasn’t there…”

As he pronounces those last words, Jongin finally breaks, unable to hold back anymore.

For a long moment, he silently cries and cries again, like he hadn’t allowed himself to, back then.

“ _You’ll have to be strong,_ ” his mother had said.

And as he had stared at her lifeless face, her lips still faintly smiling even in death, he had decided to finally listen and to comply.

Kyungsoo’s thumb is lightly brushing his knuckles in a soothing motion, and when Jongin looks up at him, he thinks he sees the hybrid’s pale eyes gleaming more than usual. His voice sounds deeper too when he eventually speaks.

“You still feel guilty. After all this time…”

It’s not as much a question as it is a statement, but Jongin weakly nods, nonetheless, using his free hand to wipe the tears and snot away.

“Is this why you think you don’t have a choice?” Kyungsoo continues, tone gentle as if he were addressing a scared child. “Did you surrender and renounce to your freedom only to please her?”

“The illusion of having a choice is still better than the idea of having no choice at all.”

“But you do have a choice.”

“No, I don’t,” Jongin whispers, slowly shaking his head as he looks down at their hands. “Not really. She was right. People are counting on me. I can’t simply leave and abandon everything.”

“Being free doesn’t mean you have to run away. This is what cowards do.”

“What am I supposed to do, then?” he asks with a dejected little laugh, knowing there is no answer to this question.

As if to confirm, Kyungsoo shrugs.

“I can’t tell you what to do. If it’s freedom that you want, you have to figure out how to reach it by yourself.”

“I just wish I were not born a crown prince. Or a prince at all,” Jongin sighs before sniffing. “For everyone, I’m nothing more than a royal title.”

“Feeling sorry for yourself is not going to help. It’s pointless,” Kyungsoo declares, before letting out a deep sigh when Jongin looks back down, biting the inside of his cheek. “You’re not just a title. The rude and arrogant Crown Prince is only a part of who you are,” he adds, chuckling when Jongin tries to glare at him.

With his red face and swollen eyes, however, he must look more ridiculous than offended.

“You’re loyal. And caring, too,” Kyungsoo continues, losing his teasing tone. “I saw how you act with the little Princess. And you’re trustworthy. You said yourself that you always keep your promises. This is who you are, too, even if you don’t show it as much.”

It’s odd to hear such praises about himself, especially coming from the hybrid. He seems to be genuine, though, looking straight in his eyes, as if to add weight to his words.

“And I think...she _is_ proud of you for that.”

With a shaky exhale, Jongin’s hand unconsciously tighten its hold around Kyungsoo’s fingers.

“You really think I could do something?” he asks, his voice so small he sounds like a child even to his own ears.

“You’re also very stubborn,” Kyungsoo replies, offering him a little smirk and earning a breathy little chuckle. “And my mother always says the line is thin between obstinacy and tenacity.”

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

“I hate the rain,” Jongin says, now seated with his back against the cabinet, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, through which he can hear the hard pitter-pat that started a little while ago.

In the same position right next to him, Kyungsoo looks up, before glancing at him.

“Why?”

“It was raining the day we buried her,” he replies, turning his head to give the hybrid a sad smile.

“Where I come from,” Kyungsoo slowly says, hesitating for a second. “They say raindrops are Azjhekaala’s tears.”

Jongin recognizes the name. The snow leopard pronounced it before when he explained how his people name themselves, asking the blessing of whoever this deity is. The syllables still sound foreign, the second one starting at the back of the throat while the last rolled on Kyungsoo’s tongue.

“Are they…the divinity your people worship?” he tentatively asks, not wanting to pry too far.

“Not exactly,” Kyungsoo replies, brows furrowed as he searches his words. “In your language, I think Her name would mean Mountain Spirit,” he explains, although he looks like the translation is not encompassing the whole idea. “She is the Mother of all beings on our lands. She protects us.”

 “Why does She cry?” Jongin then asks, eyes focused on the hybrid’s side profile.

“Because a pure soul passed away, somewhere in the mortal realm. And She mourns the loss of the light they brought in the lives of their loved ones.”

For a moment, the rain hitting the rooftop remains the only sound surrounding them. Jongin is exhausted, the start of a headache pushing against his temples. Yet, Kyungsoo’s warmth against his arm is soothing.

“Do you think…” Jongin starts, needing to pause to slightly clear his throat. “Do you think She was crying for my mother, that day?”

As soon as Kyungsoo’s eyes meet his, brows raised, Jongin looks away, embarrassed.

“I mean… I know she didn’t live on your lands, but-”

“I think She was,” Kyungsoo interrupts in a gentle tone. “I heard your mother was very kind.”

“The kindest,” Jongin nods, voice a bit strangled.

“You miss her a lot.”

“...Every day,” he breathes, looking down at his hands resting joined on his lap. “You miss your family too, don’t you?”

No reply comes for a long time, and Jongin starts wondering if he went too far. It was probably not the most sensible thing to say. Especially coming from him.

But then, he hears Kyungsoo take a deep breath, before slowly exhaling.

“I worry,” the hybrid says, sounding more tired than upset about it.

And without thinking much about it, the words come out.

“I’m sorry…”

Jongin feels Kyungsoo’s body tense against his arm but keeps his eyes cast down. He shouldn’t have said that. Not only is it pointless, but apologizing only makes him sound even more selfish, as if he knew how much he hurt Kyungsoo, yet refused to take responsibility, and acted as if there were nothing he could do.

He expects the hybrid to scoff, or straight out leave the room. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he throws a glance at Jongin, before his eyes land on the ceiling again, his head leaning back to rest on the cabinet.

“It’s all right,” he says, voice oddly emotionless. “I know I’ll see them again…”

Jongin breath falters as Kyungsoo’s voice dies down. He didn’t say it, but he also didn’t try to conceal the underlying message.

He would see them again _soon_.


	8. Chapter 8

Moonbeams, earth, and silences.

This is what Jongin thinks Kyungsoo is made out of.

The hybrid looks ethereal as he bathes in the early morning light entering by the open window.

Eyes closed, his fingers are playing with a grey feather he found in the gardens, a bit earlier. There are raindrops on his face, carried by the wind blowing outside. They look like little pearls, softly gleaming on his pale face.

“Breathe in deeply, please.”

Jongin inhales slowly, feeling the fingers pressed on his inner wrist push a bit further against his skin.

Sometimes, when the moonlight hits him at the right angle, Kyungsoo seems to be glowing. Just like when it reflects on the thin layer of snow covering the rooftops during winter nights. Like a white, faint aura radiating from him, shielding him, protecting him from dissolving into ice crystals and flying away in the wind.

“And breathe out.”

Sometimes, when they don’t take shelter from the downpour quickly enough, and they end up completely drenched in the main room of Jongin’s pavilion, Kyungsoo’s skin has the same smell that floats in the air after an autumn rainfall. It’s earthy, almost heavy; never truly sweet, yet, always warm. It exudes from him with every move, hitting Jongin whenever he risks standing too close. And it would be a lie to say he is strong enough to stay away, most of the time.

“Breathe in again.”

Sometimes, when Jongin reads over never-ending financial records in his private study, Kyungsoo sits at the small table too, with one of the books full of illustrations that Jongdae gave him. Jongin recognized them as Yeonjoo’s, back from where she learned how to read. At first, the hybrid is always focused, his lips slowly moving without a sound as he deciphers the Hangul characters. But every time, Jongin sees him doze off, lulled by the pitter-patter of the rain on the rooftop, his eyes fluttering as he tries to stay awake. And when his head inevitably touches the pages, Jongin always abandons what he is doing, and watches him for a little while.

He really enjoys hearing the hybrid talk, but on the list of things he likes, the quiet sound of Kyungsoo’s deep breaths as he sleeps definitely made its way in the top five. Probably somewhere between crocuses, the color orange, and honey chrysanthemum tea.

“Good. And breathe out one last time, please.”

The more he learns to know him, the bigger mystery Kyungsoo becomes. But Jongin is not sure when the confusion stopped being as unwelcome as it used to be, or when he started seeking the snow leopard’s gaze, just to get lost in it.

And sometimes, when Kyungsoo looks back at him, and they stare at each other in complete silence, Jongin likes to pretend the hybrid is enjoying it as well.

Just like now, as iridescent eyes capture his dark brown ones.

When he realizes he has been caught staring, Jongin quickly averts his eyes, teeth sinking in his cheek as he clears his throat. In his peripheral vision, Kyungsoo’s lids go down again, and Jongin exhales in relief.

“Are you feeling well, Your Highness?”

His nape winces when he turns to look at Changwook, seated near him, his fingers still pressed against his wrist.

“Y-yes. Why?”

“You pulse is quite rapid. And it jolted a few seconds ago,” the apprentice says, brows slightly furrowed in concern.

Pretending not to notice the way Kyungsoo’s head whips in their direction or the frown creasing his forehead, Jongin offers a smile to the man.

“I’m feeling all right.”

Changwook seems a bit suspicious, but eventually nods and lets go of his wrist before placing a few vials on the ow table.

“These are for your muscles pain and headaches. But I would like to come back tomorrow to examine your pulse again, just in case.”

“There’s really no need. I just...thought of something important I forgot to do.”

“Your Highness is under a lot of pressure. You need to be cautious.”

“I will. Thank you, Changwook.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” the man says, bowing his head with a smile. “I will see myself out, then.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes are still on him when Changwook exits the pavilion, but Jongin keeps feigning unawareness. He can easily guess what is going on in his mind. Jongin being sick would likely be the best thing to ever happen to him. Heart issues could be fatal, and a dead crown prince would hardly need a hybrid to protect him anymore.

The hybrid might have not been given the same education as Jongin was, but he is by no mean ignorant. Especially when it comes to health matters, thanks to his father. He learned that a couple of weeks ago, during a conversation they had in his private library. This discussion had actually turned to be full of revelations.

Eunha had just left after greeting him, and Jongin, who usually does his best to avoid her, had been forced to act politely, the King’s words still ringing in his mind.

“Is your father anything like mine?” he had asked the hybrid, who was walking along the shelves, fingers trailing on the book covers.

“No. He is the opposite.”

“How so?”

“He is patient. And kind,” Kyungsoo had replied. “He is our healer. He taught me a lot.”

“Wait… But Hyung-nim said you were the son of your tribe’s leader.”

“I am. My mother is our leader.”

Eyes widening, Jongin had stared at him in disbelief.

“But she’s a _woman_.”

“Indeed,” Kyungsoo had chuckled, briefly glancing at him as if he were stupid.

“How can she be your leader?”

“Our leaders are always women.”

“This is absurd…”

Hearing that, Kyungsoo had stopped what he was doing and turned to face Jongin.

“Why is that? They are level-headed, and won’t rush into useless wars,” he had said, crossing his arms. “Men are power-driven. They don’t bring peace. Only chaos and death.”

“But...women can’t be in charge,” Jongin had replied, the sole concept going against everything he had always been taught.

“Let me guess. Is this another one of your father’s doctrines?”

The resentment had been clearly audible in his voice; not that Jongin could fault him for that.

He was right, however, although this principle didn’t only come from the King.

“It’s common knowledge,” Jongin had said with a frown. “Women are _weak_.”

“My mother and sisters are the strongest persons I know.”

The memory of Kyungsoo talking about Yeonjoo’s strong-will had instantly came back in front of Jongin’s mind, and with it, the hybrid’s expression at that moment. This is why he saw it as a positive trait.

“How so?” Jongin had asked, still a bit skeptic.

“Being able to wield a sword doesn’t make you strong,” the hybrid had answered, tone serious. “Knowing how to sacrifice your own well-being for the good of your people does.”

Somehow, Jongin had not found anything to reply.

 

“Where does he live?”

Snapping back to reality, Jongin turns toward Kyungsoo, whose frown is now even more pronounced.

“Who?”

“The doctor.”

“Changwook?” Jongin asks, earning a sharp nod. “He is only an apprentice. He lives in the Royal Pharmacy building, with all the others. Why?”

“He still carries the scent of a hybrid,” Kyungsoo replies, nose twitching at the same time as the end of his tail. “But I don’t know _what_ they are.”

“If you say he stinks again…” Jongin starts with a knowing smirk.

“He does!”

This time, Jongin laughs at the feline’s scrunched face.

“Well, try to refrain marking him, all right?” he says in a teasing tone, despite knowing Kyungsoo always stays as far as possible whenever Changwook comes for Jongin’s weekly health assessment. “Whoever and whatever they are, they might not be happy to find _your_ scent on him,” he adds, getting more and more amused as the feline’s expression grows disgusted.

“I wouldn’t get anywhere near him, even if you ordered me so, _Your Highness_.”

“Good. Don’t go marking anyone else.”

The words have left his mouth before he has the time to think of the meaning they could hold. But when he realizes and sees Kyungsoo’s slightly rounded eyes, Jongin mentally curses.

“I mean… Not that you marked _me_ after that day at the market. Or someone else. Or that I would even want you to. It’s just… You…”

“I know what you meant,” the hybrid calmly says, interrupting his fumbling.

“Oh… All right, then.”

Clearing his throat, Jongin pretends to inspect the vials in front of him. He has no idea how Kyungsoo understood what he meant; he is not even sure himself what he was truly implying.

“Isn’t it time to go to your lesson?” Kyungsoo then asks, now being the one teasing.

“R-right,” Jongin says, hurriedly standing on his feet. “Do you want to come?”

“Sure. It’s still pouring, anyway.”

And for the first time in years, Jongin finds himself being glad for the rainy weather.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

His cheeks hurt. The muscles are strained after forcing his smile to remain on his face for so long. It might be convincing enough, though, if Eunha’s seemingly genuine grin is any indication.

With her bright yellow _chima_ , and burnt orange _dangui_ , she looks just like a sunflower, and Jongin wonders if she is doing this on purpose.

His father has ordered him to spend time with Sinjae’s Princess, and despite getting to know his future wife is the last thing Jongin wants, he knows he can’t afford to refuse.

The damp ground lightly sloshes under their feet as they walk on the garden’s footway. Jongin wasn’t very enthusiastic at the idea of coming here with her, but she looked so disappointed when he hesitated that he ended up sighing and agreeing.

“How old are you?” he asks, guessing this was one of the most inconsequential questions he could ask.

“Where I come from, it is rather rude to ask a lady about her age,” she says in a light-hearted tone, giggling when Jongin glances at her, unsure how to reply. “I turned sixteen late spring,” she eventually answers.

Jongin’s steps falter as his eyes bulge out.

His father wants him to marry a _child_.

“Your Highness needs to learn how to control his facial expression.”

The curve on her lips contradicts the disapproving tone she used, but Jongin can’t help but feel embarrassed. But as soon as he has gotten his face back to being impassive, another chuckle reaches his ears.

“I am worried thinking of how many people you might have offended without even uttering a word,” she says, her amused grin baffling him a little.

She doesn’t seem to fear him in the slightest, judging by how she just openly teased him.

“I probably wouldn’t have been your first choice, among my sisters,” she continues, more serious. “But trust me, I’m the best one.”

That has the merit of making Jongin’s smile a little more sincere.

“Someone is confident, I see,” he says, raising a brow at her.

“Because it’s true. I don’t care about the crown on your head. I have no desire to have any power. Quite honestly, you wouldn’t have been my first choice either,” she scoffs, earning a feigned offended look from him. ”But I’m the youngest of twelve siblings, and my oldest brother is the King, now.”

“I never heard about you…” Jongin says, only vaguely remembering a few of the late King’s children.

“This is not surprising. I’m the daughter of a concubine, not exactly something highly regarded,” she nonchalantly shrugs. “Which is why, even if in Yangkwang, a king’s wife is nothing but a consort, it’s still way better than being looked down by an entire kingdom and considered as illegitimate. Being your spouse will give me more freedom than I ever had in Sinjae.”

“Freedom…”

“No one ever paid attention to me, other than to criticize. But this is why I often came to know things before most people,” she says with a small, yet proud grin.

“Really?” Jongin scoffs. “And in what way did this lead you here?”

“I overheard a conversation about your father wanting to find you a wife,” she replies before her face paints itself with scorn. “I was in my brother’s private study before my sisters could even find out about it. They never stood a chance. It was way too easy to convince him. He would be both gaining a political ally, and get rid of someone useless to him.”

The more she speaks, the more Jongin realizes she is not what he initially thought. She may be young, and she may be small, the top of her head barely reaching his chin, but it is evident the sixteen-year-old girl is not as ingenuous as she looks.

“I don’t even have to be the mother of your heir,” she continues, slowing down her steps as she looks up at him. “But it would be beneficial for both of us if I were.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your father would leave you alone. And I wouldn’t risk being sent back,” she explains quite bluntly. “My understanding is that you’re not really elated at the idea of marrying me. But if you agree, I could be very good at turning a blind eye to whatever you would do with someone else.”

“What exactly are you implying here, Princess?” Jongin asks, brows furrowed and narrowed eyes.

“I saw the way you look at him… He might combust, one day, if you keep staring like that, you know?”

“What?”

“Your hybrid. Kyungsoo, is it? You look at him as if you wanted to set his soul on fire…”

There is no malice in her eyes, no threat in her tone; she is merely relaying an observation. Yet, Jongin feels cornered. She is clever, way more than she lets people see, and this could either be a significant advantage, or what leads them both downhill.

“You should be careful, Your Highness,” he says, not menacing, but stern enough so that she knows to take him seriously. “People _will_ pay attention to you here. You can’t be as reckless as you once were.”

“Won’t you protect your spouse?”

“Not if it means losing everything.”

“You mean _him_.”

“I mean _everything_.”

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

“Do you get along with her?”

“With who?”

“The Princess?” Kyungsoo says with a raised brow. “Aren’t you spending time with her, lately?”

“I am.”

“So?”

“I… I guess? I’m not sure. She is…” Jongin starts, frowning as he searches for the right way to describe her. “Less naive that I thought.”

“Why do you make it sound like a bad thing?” the hybrid scoffs, grabbing his arm and pulling his on the side so that he doesn’t step in a puddle.

“Because it might be,” he replies with a sigh. “She could bring trouble here.”

“To herself or to you?” the feline smirks.

Kyungsoo is clearly in a good mood, which might have to do with being asked to fight against Jongin during training, less than an hour ago. But as much as the Crown Prince enjoys seeing Kyungsoo smile, his conversation with Eunha keeps bothering him, preventing the hybrid’s lighthearted spirit to fully reach him.

“To both of us,” he answers gravely, even if that ‘ _us_ ’ is not truly designating him and the Princess.

“She seems nice. And polite.”

“You talked to her?”

“She talked to me,” Kyungsoo nonchalantly corrects.

“Why? What did she want?”

“She asked about you.”

Freezing, Jongin turns toward the hybrid.

“What did she ask? What did you say?” he questions with urgency, earning a weirded-out look from Kyungsoo who clearly doesn’t get why Jongin looks so alarmed.

“She thought I would know what you like and dislike in a person.”

“What did you answer?”

“...That you don’t like tangerines.”

The answer is given in such a stern tone that Jongin is left blinking at Kyungsoo, wondering if he is really serious.

“She looked confused, too,” the hybrid adds with a nod.

The laugh coming out on its own sounds both nervous and relieved as it echoes in the pathway they stopped in. When Jongin looks back at him, Kyungsoo’s lips are curved up ever so slightly.

“All right. Let’s go,” he says, his chuckle finally subsiding as they start walking again toward his pavilion.

“I actually do,” Jongin says.

“Mmh?”

“I do like tangerines. I only said I didn’t so that you would agree to eat with me that night.”

“I know. You’re a bad liar.”

“I was a bit nervous,” Jongin admits, remembering how he felt at the idea of talking about the hunting excursion to the hybrid.

“A bit?” Kyungsoo scoffs. “You wouldn’t stop fidgeting. It was ridiculous.”

“Well, it was justified, wasn’t it? Considering what...happened…”

His voice dies as he realizes what he is saying, and he glances at Kyungsoo, suddenly anxious.

“You couldn’t have known about the snowstorm before we got there,” the feline easily replies.

This is not what Jongin meant, but unwilling to remind him of his escape attempt, Jongin merely nods and keeps walking.

The silence is short-lived, though, and they have barely reached the inner court when Kyungsoo speaks again.

“The Princess,” he starts, sounding oddly hesitant. “She also asked if you had a lover. Or someone you fancy.”

Once again, Jongin halts his steps, eyes bulging out. He doesn’t look at Kyungsoo, however, when he asks:

“And? What did you say?”

“The truth.”

“Which is?”

“That there is no one that I know of,” Kyungsoo tentatively answers before marking a little pause. “Is there?”

Jongin’s head turns so that he can look at him, and there gazes lock. Kyungsoo’s brows are slightly raised. He is evidently waiting for a reply, but Jongin doesn’t have any acceptable one. All he can think about would either be a lie or have consequences too big for him to handle. But when two unsatisfactory options present themselves, it’s all about choosing the one that’ll have the least bad outcome.

So, forcing a smile on his face, he shakes his head.

“No. You’re right. There isn’t.”

It takes a few seconds before Kyungsoo eventually grins back and nods. Jongin sees his mouth open as if to say something, but then, the hybrid’s head suddenly snaps to the side, eyes narrowing and ears perking up. The next moment, he is marching away.

The rapid pace forces Jongin to trot behind, wondering what caught his attention, and he ends up almost bumping into the hybrid who has frozen right around the corner of a building.

“What’s wrong?”

He gets no answer, and it takes a moment before he notices the tension in Kyungsoo’s body, fist clenched by his sides and tail lightly bristling. It’s only when a pained moan reaches his ears that he leans on the side to see what the feline is looking at, and finally understands.

In front of the consorts’ living quarters, Lady Soojung is standing with her eyes cast down on three bodies rolled up in blood-stained straw mats. The people inside are too small to be visible, but Jongin knows her enough to figure out the King’s youngest wife has once again decided some of her pug hybrid maids needed to be disciplined after doing something she deemed wrong.

It hasn’t happened in a while; or at least, not since Kyungsoo started living at the palace, where, albeit not being treated in the best way, all hybrids usually know not to act out of order to avoid getting punished. The same goes for anyone working here, eunuchs and court ladies included. But although he never was the nicest with them, Jongin has _never_ landed a hand on a domestic, either hybrid or human.

Lady Soojung, however, has always had very few scruples using corporal punishment to get her servants to behave. Of course, she never does it herself, as proven by the guards standing near the mats with heavy sticks in their hands.

“Again.”

The thwacking sounds reverberate in the silence, instantly followed by whimpers, and Jongin, standing so close to him, can feel Kyungsoo starting to shake.

Unconsciously, his fingers curl around the snow leopard’s elbow, tugging him back. It takes a few attempts before Kyungsoo stops trying to get him to let go, and Jongin has to grab both of his arms from behind and pull him against his chest as he takes a couple of steps back to get them hidden.

“Come on,” he whispers in a strained voice against the hybrid’s human ear. “You can’t do anything. It’ll get worse if she sees you.”

He feels the anger radiating from Kyungsoo, feels him tremble in rage against him, even harder when yet another cry reaches them. He can’t even truly register the pleasant warmth coming from the body pressed against his own, too focused on wanting to avoid anything bad to happen to the feline.

“Enough,” they hear Soojung say. “I hope this will teach you to think twice before talking back when I give you an order. I will _not_ be as magnanimous if it happens again.”

“Why don’t _you_ do something?” Kyungsoo breathes out through gritted teeth, yet not trying to free himself from Jongin’s hold.

In all honesty, it had never occurred to Jongin that he could have helped. Lady Soojung is not only known to be choleric but also quick to hold grudges. And going against her means she would complain to his father. No matter how little regard the King has for women, Jongin has never been inclined to chance getting scolded.

But at this moment, as he listens to Kyungsoo’s erratic breaths, feeling the muscles under his palms spasmodically jolt as he keeps clenching and unclenching his fists, Jongin realizes he doesn’t want to remain silent, this time.

He knows, however, that barging on the situation right as it happens wouldn’t be the best idea. So he tightens his hands around Kyungsoo’s upper arms and lets out a sigh.

“I’ll talk to her,” he says, pausing before adding in a quieter voice: “I promise.”

The last words seem to somewhat diffuse the tension around Kyungsoo, and Jongin feels his body slowly relax against his chest before the hybrid eventually nods.

For a few seconds, none of them moves, until Jongin compels himself to step back, and it’s without a word that Kyungsoo falls into step behind him.

And Jongin doesn’t stop him when, after entering his pavilion, Kyungsoo silently makes his way to his bedroom, harshly closing the door behind him.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

During the following days, Kyungsoo doesn’t talk as much, only answering when he is asked a question, or giving his opinion, albeit tersely, if Jongin seeks it. He still trails behind whenever the Crown Prince needs to go somewhere, but Jongin can feel something has changed.

Once, he does catch the hybrid talking to one of the hybrid girls, whose face still wears the marks of what she went through only a few days before. When he asks about it, however, Kyungsoo remains silent and averts his eyes. Jongin doesn’t insist.

One of the most significant downsides of the snow leopard’s distant behavior is that it has given opportunities to Eunha to spend even more time with Jongin, and he ran out of plausible excuses after the third time she asked him to have a walk with her around the palace grounds.

It’s exactly a week after the incident that Jongin gets the opportunity to talk to his father’s consort.

He is exiting his sister’s pavilion when he spots Lady Soojung, alone for once, walking in his direction, probably on her way to visit Seohyun.

His sister is just as fond of the girl as he is, and considering he just related her what happened the previous week, he can already predict the kind of mood she is going to be in when Lady Soojung will give her yet another speech on why she should ask the King to find her a new husband.

He usually finds it quite amusing – not to mention highly ridiculous – to think a girl younger than _him_ and with not a drop of royal blood in her veins would try to lecture the eldest of the King’s children. Today, however, Jongin doesn’t even feel like rolling his eyes.

“Lady Soojung,” he says as he comes down the stairs, not even bothering using a greeting tone.

“Your Highness.”

As expected, despite being of lower-rank, she barely even bows her head, and Jongin feels a spark of irritation ignite in his guts.

“Can I have a word?” he says when she starts stepping aside to go around him, clearly not intending on speaking with him any longer.

Raising both brows, she stops on his left and looks up at him with barely concealed displeasure. She does, however, know better than being openly impolite to him.

“Of course,” she nods without yet fully turning to face him. “It must be of the utmost importance, judging by your expression.”

“It is,” Jongin sternly replies, averting his eyes to look straight ahead as he subtly lifts his chin. ‘I have heard about the scene you caused, a few days ago.”

“The scene, Your Highness?” she asks, playing innocent.

“From what I understood, you deemed right to mistreat your servants once again.”

He can feel her eyes burning the side of his face, but still doesn’t look back at her.

“Indeed.”

“May I ask what happened that made you think corporal punishment was required?”

“They acted up, Your Highness. Argued when I gave them a clear order,” she says, starting to sound annoyed.

“Argued in what way?” he counters, remaining impassive even when she sighs.

“I can hardly understand how this is any of your concern,” she says. “And from what _I_ understood, with how out of control your own hybrid is, you should consider doing the same.”

Head snapping to the left, Jongin locks eyes with her, a fire burning in his chest.

“You should be careful with your words,” he lowly says. “Remember who you are addressing. I am the Crown Prince. You are nothing but one of the _many_ women the King took a liking to enough to have them in his bed.”

He knows this is a low blow without even needing to see her offended face, but he has to make sure she remembers her place. Being nice and ask politely never do anything with people like her.

“Who do you think my father will side with if I were to tell him I don’t appreciate the way you treat your domestics?”

Admittedly, this might be a long shot. He can’t be sure his father would care much about mistreated hybrids, but all he needs is her to at least be unsure about it.

But of course, she wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t give him one of her habitual scowls.

“Oh, you can glare at me all you want,” Jongin says, lifting a brow in provocation. “It won’t change anything.”

The scoff she lets out does take him a little aback, although he doesn’t show it.

“I think being at the contact of a certain hybrid made you softer, Your Highness,” she declares in a tone skillfully mixing mockery and feigned concern.

Refusing to let her taunting work, Jongin ever so slightly narrows his eyes and allows a smirk to stretch his lips.

“With all due respect, I care very little about what you think, Soojung,” he replies, the use of solely her name negating the beginning of his statement.

It’s with secret content that he witnesses her expression turn purely scandalized. For good measure, he scoffs at her, before straightening his stance even more, making sure their eyes are still locked.

“From now on, you will treat them properly. If I find out you _disobeyed_ ,” he says, carefully choosing his words. “I will be forced to take drastic measures to make sure you don’t hurt them anymore. And I heard repudiated women are hardly ever nicely welcomed back into their families.”

Of course, even if his father miraculously sided with him, Jongin would never as much as consider asking such a thing, no matter what she did.  
He did hear stories about what had happened to women cast off by their husbands, and he would never wish this even to his enemies. He just needs her to believe it so that his words can hold more weight. And judging by her expression, she does.

Jongin’s smirk widens as he keeps her eyes captive of his own for a few seconds longer.

“Have a nice afternoon,” he eventually says with a slight bow of his head before walking away.

Then, just as an afterthought, he looks over his shoulder, finding her still at the bottom of the stairs.

“And try not to bother my sister too much, will you?”

The means he used weren’t exactly the kindest, but Jongin at least got his point across. And for the first time this week, his smile doesn’t feel forced as he fastens his pace, impatient to tell Kyungsoo he kept his promise.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Jongin is not sure what he expected after relating his conversation with Lady Soojung to the snow leopard. Perhaps a smile, or at least pleased look in his eyes. Yet, after five days, the Crown Prince has still no idea what to make of the nod he was given with an impassive face.

Thinking Kyungsoo hadn’t heard him correctly, Jongin had even insisted, emphasizing on how he thought the girl wouldn’t even risk yelling at her maids, now. He had only been left with an unpleasant feeling of confused frustration when he received a mere “All right,” just as stoically delivered.

And really, had he known it would take him falling sick to finally earn a smile from Kyungsoo, he might have gone for a ride under the downpour way earlier.

His headache has been consistently getting worse since the night before, and it seems to have reached his peak amid a meeting with his father and Minister Gwon, during which they’re discussing the critical flood caused by the monsoon that damaged crops in the south.

He has done his best to focus, but with the Minister’s monotonous drawl as background, Jongin has been feeling dizzier by the minute. He is almost certain he has been running a fever since the end of his sword training, and it has probably gotten higher by now, judging by the burning sensation in the back of his eyes and the cold sweats making him both shiver and feel way too warm. His throat itches as well, and he has been trying to repress the urge to cough by swallowing again and again, which only ended up irritating it even more.

Eyes flickering, Jongin looks at his father when he hears his name being called. The King is frowning, blurry face looking concerned.

“Are you not feeling well?”

The words take longer than they should to come out and are slurred enough for his father’s brows to furrow even more.

“Just a bit lightheaded.”

“All right,” his father nods. “Go and rest, then. We will resume this meeting when you feel better.”

“Your Majesty, this matter requires immediate-”

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion, Minister Gwon.”

Standing up and making his way over to the door is a bit challenging, but Jongin eventually exits the door, Hoseong rushing by his sides in the blink of an eye. Kyungsoo is there as well, a few steps away, his back facing Jongin and only glancing over his shoulder when he hears the eunuch fuss.

Leaning on Hoseong, Jongin nods when the young man asks if he thinks he can walk. He may feel dizzy and weakened, but thankfully not to the point where he needs to be carried around.

They progress slowly, his shaky legs impeding their pace. Despite his excessive blinking, the world is hazy around him, and when a wave of nausea floods through his body due to both the dizziness and the pounding headache, he barely has the time to breathe out a quiet warning before he has to stop, bending to place his hands on his knees. Eyes squeezed shut and ears ringing, Jongin is left panting as he waits for everything to stop spinning.

“Your Highness really looks pallid,” Hoseong says, his voice sounding concerned even as it reaches Jongin’s ears all muffled.

Not wanting to worry the eunuch too much, Jongin tries to straighten up, but the movement only makes the buzz against his eardrums intensify, and as black spots erupt in his vision, Jongin feels his body starting to waver.

When he loses balance, his only silver lining is that, no matter how reactive Hoseong is, it will never beat Kyungsoo’s enhanced reflexes. Before he even realizes he is falling, a pair of strong arms are already wrapped around his middle, keeping him secure with his side pressed against a firm torso.

It takes a few seconds for the dizziness to subside, and gaze unfocused, Jongin’s head tilts so that he can look on his left, and a tired smile soon stretches his lips when he meets the hybrid’s eyes.

“Kyungsoo?” he says in a slurred, confused voice.

“What?”

The answer is given in a rather impassive tone, neither soft nor annoyed, but he hasn’t averted his eyes, which is a welcome change after the last two weeks.

“You’re here.”

“Yes,” the hybrid slowly replies, looking somewhat cautious and a bit puzzled.

“I’m glad,” Jongin says, lips still stretched in a weary smile.

The sound of the breathy scoff Kyungsoo lets out ends up being covered by Jongin’s cough, his throat finally reminding itself to him. It burns, and it feels like the air getting expelled from his lungs pulls out some of his energy as well.

When he opens his eyes, Kyungsoo’s face is scrunched up, leaned back a little in evident distaste.

“You don’t look so good,” the hybrid says, pursing his lips when Jongin coughs a little more.

“I’m all right.”

His voice sounds weak and hoarse, serving as the biggest contradiction possible, and Kyungsoo rolls his eyes.

“Sure,” he says, bringing one of Jongin’s arm around his shoulders. “Let’s get you to your pavilion. It’ll start raining soon.”

The feline takes a step forward, half dragging Jongin with him when he feels another pair of hands curling around his right arm, trying to support his weight as well.

“I’ll do it,” Kyungsoo says, briefly glancing at the person on Jongin’s other side.

“But His Highness-”

“I said I’ll do it.”

The sharp answer, ending in a faint growl vibrating against Jongin’s side, effectively cuts short Hoseong’s protest, and the man quickly backs off, jerking his hand away as if the Crown Prince’s contact had burned him.

Amongst the confusion swarming in his mind, there is a little spark of content slowly making its way through Jongin’s chest.

“Let’s go,” the hybrid says, voice softer.

Before he has the time to send an apologetic look to Hoseong, Kyungsoo is already moving, half carrying his weight with the arm wrapped around his middle. He is warm, contrasting with the cold waves flooding throughout Jongin’s body and making him shiver even more.

“I’m really all right,” he says, more for the sake of getting to hear Kyungsoo’s voice than in a real attempt to convince him.

“You can’t even walk on your own,” the hybrid replies after clicking his tongue.

“It’s just a headache.”

Once again, his body decides to contradict his words by making him cough, and Kyungsoo halts his steps, adjusting his hold on his waist and waiting for the fit to pass.

“Why did you insist on going to this meeting if you were feeling ill?” he asks, sounding somewhat annoyed as they resume walking. “You have a fever. You should be in bed, not wandering around.”

Tiredly chuckling, Jongin steals a glance.

“Are you worried?” he asks, a hinge of teasing on his tone.

“See? You even hallucinate, now.”

It’s odd to feel his body so weak and slowly getting drained of his energy, and yet, to have this strange sense of both peace and delight warming him from within.

With another breathy laugh, Jongin lightly bumps his head on Kyungsoo, wincing right away when the impact, albeit barely perceptible, makes his head pound. He tries to ignore the pain, excessively blinking to get the white spots to stop dancing in all around him, but Kyungsoo might have noticed, because he slightly slows down their pace just as they arrive at the bottom of his pavilion stairs.

“Look at yourself,” the hybrid says, grabbing his waist even more firmly and nearly hauling him up on the first step. “If you were from my people, Azjhekaala would already be looking for a new body.”

“New body?” Jongin asks, voice still hoarse as he lets himself be handled. “Why?”

“For your animal spirit to live in after your death,” Kyungsoo replies, a smirk pulling a corner of his lips up as he keeps lifting him from step to step.

Deciding to disregard the part where he implied he looked half dead already, Jongin chooses to focus on the more interesting information.

“Is it like reincarnation?”

“In a way, yes, I suppose,” Kyungsoo nods, opening the doors and getting them in. “Although it’s not the soul that gets transferred. It’s our animal spirit.”

“So, if you died, there would still be a part of you living in someone else?”

“That’s what we believe, yes.”

As the snow leopard leads him to his bedroom, Jongin frowns, trying to wrap his confused mind around the idea. The simple thought of Kyungsoo being dead makes his chest painfully clench, and he ends up pouting as the hybrid cautiously lies him down on the sleeping mat.

“But how would I find you?” he asks, his voice sounding sad even to his own ears.

Halfway through pulling the cover on top of him, Kyungsoo freezes.

“Find me?”

With a faint nod, Jongin hums, already feeling his aching muscles starting to relax.

“Find the person with your animal spirit,” he says, voice getting even more slurred as sleep starts to pull him under.

“Why would you want to find them?”

Through the blur of his vision, he can still see Kyungsoo’s frown. His thoughts are all jumbled, and he tries to blink to stay awake a bit longer, not wanting to stop talking with the hybrid.

Kyungsoo seems to be waiting for an answer, but Jongin is not sure he has one. Or at least, one that he can confess out loud. The feline must be thinking he would bring the person back to the palace and steal their freedom as well. And if it meant having a part of Kyungsoo still near him, even if the body were different, Jongin cannot confidently say he wouldn’t at least consider it.

However, it sounds so selfish, even to himself, that he knows he can’t tell Kyungsoo. So, with his eyes slowly closing, Jongin merely shrugs, wincing when his sore neck protests at the movement.

“To make sure they take care of you,” he mumbles, not really knowing what he even means.

Only a sigh comes to answer him, and he feels the cover being pulled up under his chin.

“But don’t die and change body… It’s better if it’s you.”

At this point, he doesn’t know if his words make any sense, or if they’re even intelligible. He is also not sure if he wants them to be.

“Just get some rest.”

“I like it…” Jongin breathes, feeling his mind losing grip on reality. “When you’re you... It’s better...”

And as darkness surrounds him, the last thing he hears is Kyungsoo’s voice pronouncing a few words he doesn’t understand.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Jongin is alone when he wakes up.

A little confused, he looks around, spotting a few vials placed on the ground near his sleeping mat. His head is still pounding, and judging by the lack of daylight coming through the hanji on the windows, the sun must have already set. He can’t have been asleep for more than a few hours.

This is what he gets being stubborn and wanting to take Daol for a ride despite the impending start of the afternoon rain.

As he tries to sit, he makes a mental note of asking Hoseong about Taeil and Sehun, who diligently followed him without objection. He genuinely hopes they don’t feel as horrible as he does.

Hearing some faint noise beyond the closed doors, Jongin asks them to come in, secretly hoping to see Kyungsoo’s face peeking from behind the wooden panel. He does his best to hide his disappointment when Hoseong rushes in and kneels by his side.

“How is Your Highness feeling? Does your head still hurt? You worried us all!”

As usual, the eunuch’s alarmist behavior pulls a smile out of him, and he nods, making sure to keep his movements slow.

“It still hurts, but I’ll live,” he says, voice hoarse from both the lack of use and the burning feeling in the back of it. “How long was I asleep?”

“It’s early morning, Your Highness,” Hoseong replies, surprising him. “The sun will soon rise.”

That would explain why the young man looks so concerned.

“The Royal Physician came to examine you last night, but you wouldn’t wake up. He left medicine for you to take as soon as you could. He will come back later this morning to see how you are.”

“All right.”

“Would you like to eat something?” Hoseong then asks, reaching out to take the vials and handing one of them to Jongin. “Your Highness hasn’t had dinner last night.”

He is not particularly hungry, but the look on the eunuch’s face compels him to nod again.

“That would be nice,” he says with a weary smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Your Highness. I’ll be right back,” the eunuch says, standing and exiting the bedroom.

It might take a while before Hoseong comes back, so, after emptying the three vials, he lies back down to release the tension in his muscles, and listens to the silence, trying to catch a noise inside the pavilion.

Kyungsoo has always been quiet, but sometimes, if Jongin really focuses, he can hear soft footsteps from the room at the end of the hallway. He might still be asleep, though, because all Jongin can register is the sound of the rain hitting the rooftop.

A part of him wants to call his name, but he feels guilty at the idea of waking him up so early, so Jongin closes his eyes, and wills himself to just wait patiently until Hoseong comes back.

He only realizes he fell back asleep the moment he startles awake at the eunuch’s voice calling him.

“I apologize, Your Highness,” the young man says, looking contrite when Jongin’s eyes flicker up to him. “You looked exhausted, so I let you sleep. But the Physician’s apprentice is here…”

Disorientated, it takes him a few seconds before he hums in response and lets the eunuch help him to sit, just as Changwook steps in the room and bows.

“I’ll be outside the room,” Hoseong quietly tells him, thoughtful not to upset his headache.

Jongin nods, wincing when the pounding in his skull pushes against the back of his eyes.

The eunuch is soon replaced by Changwook, who kneels next to the sleeping mat with a little smile.

“The Royal Physician examined Your Highness already, but he thought it would be more conclusive to do it again once you had awoken,” he says just as quietly as Hoseong had been. “Unfortunately, he had matters to take care of, so he trusted me to conduct your examination today.”

It’s rather odd. Letting the apprentice handle his weekly examination is inconsequential, but Jongin is ill this time, and his health is never something anyone would take lightly. Either the Royal Physician has unwavering faith in Changwook, or someone else in the palace is in a worse state than him, even likely on their deathbed if it requires the head doctor’s immediate attention.

“Your Highness should be more careful,” the apprentice says, pressing two fingers on Jongin’s inner wrist. “You are the Crown Prince, our future King. It is of utmost importance that you remain healthy.”

“I really wanted to go for a ride,” Jongin replies with a breathy chuckle that instantly induces a coughing fit.

“Breathe, Your Highness,” Changwook advises, his free hand lightly patting between his shoulder blades.

For the next few minutes, the man thoroughly examines him, nodding to himself every now and then. Jongin doesn’t move much, only complying when he is asked to breathe deeply or to remove his jeogori. The cool air inside the room makes him shiver, goosebumps rising on his burning skin and sore muscles cramping. He still feels lightheaded, most likely because of the fever, and yet, despite his jumbled thought, he keeps unconsciously glancing at the door, wondering if Kyungsoo has joined Hoseong already.

“Is Your Highness expecting someone?”

Eyes flickering toward Changwook, Jongin raises his brows.

Is he?

He doubts Kyungsoo would come in without being asked to, especially considering how distant he has been lately.

“No.”

“Has your mother visited you?” the apprentice then asks, and Jongin feels his heart pang, sending actual pain down to his fingertips. “I don’t think I had the honor of meeting her.”

“She won’t visit me,” Jongin replies, voice sounding weak even to his own ears. “She passed away many years ago.”

“Oh… Please accept my apologies, Your Highness,” Changwook rushes, bowing awkwardly, the pouch full of medicinal herbs in his hands swinging with the sudden move. “I had not been made aware of this.”

“It’s all right,” Jongin says, trying to reassure him to ease the distressed look on his face. “Seven years have passed. There is no need to dwell on it, now.”

It’s quite ironic, really, considering how often his own mind lingers on it.

Silence settles in the room as Changwook begins grinding plants and seeds in his mortar with precise gestures showing how familiar he is with this.

“I can sympathize,” the apprentice says after a moment, eyes focused on his task. “I recently lost my own mother.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Jongin softly replies when he sees the man’s expression, so reminiscent of how he felt, so long ago.

“She is...actually the reason I came here.”

“Really?”

“She was the appointed doctor in our village,” Changwook says, tenderness filling his voice as he adds different seeds in the mortar and resumes crushing them. “And I used to help her. She taught me everything about remedies. Yet, I couldn’t save her…”

“I’m sure you tried your best,” Jongin says, offering him a small smile when the man briefly glances up at him and nods.

“But I thought...if I could learn from the very best, then maybe I would be able to save lives. To save someone else’s mother, and prevent them from feeling the pain I felt.”

“That is very benevolent of you.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Is your father living alone, now?” Jongin asks a short moment later, watching through blurred eyes as Changwook pours the pestled plants into hot water.

When he sees the man freeze, however, he instantly backtracks.

“You don’t have to answer if I’m prying too much.”

“No, it’s… My father… He isn’t my real father,” Changwook says, visibly troubled by the thoughts running in his head.

He looks hesitant, glancing at him before focusing on the leaves he dropped in the mortar, and Jongin feels bad for bringing the matter up. He is about to tell him once more that they don’t have to talk about it when the apprentice continues.

“My mother had an affair with a wealthy nobleman when she was young,” Changwook says, making Jongin’s eyes widen. “She had recently been married, though, so when she found out she was pregnant, she feared her husband would react badly and hurt not only her, but also her unborn child.”

“…You.”

“Yes. But he didn’t. He let her keep me, and made her agree to pretend I was his. It was mostly to save both their reputations, I think,” Changwook adds with a sardonic chuckle. “However, the nobleman… His father was anything but happy about it. An illegitimate grandson, born from a married woman. The daughter of a farmer, on top of that.”

“Quite a ruckus in a noble family,” Jongin tiredly comments, having no trouble imagining how his own father would react if the Crown Prince ever got a farmgirl pregnant.

The sole idea is giving him chills.

“Indeed,” Changwook nods. “I wasn’t born yet when the man’s father had my mother and her husband exiled from their village. He sent them to live as far away as possible, up north, in order to protect his family’s prestige, and sent them money once in a while, to make sure they’d remain silent. I think he even got my maternal grandparents secretly executed...”

“Sadly, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Of course, I never knew any of this. I never understood why my father wouldn’t treat me as kindly as he treated my younger siblings. Until she told me everything, a few days before she passed away. I think she knew she was about to leave me, and I guess this was a secret she didn’t want to take with her.”

“It must have been hard for the both of you, during all those years,” Jongin says, willing his voice not to waver as the apprentice words somewhat echo with his own experience.

“As proof, she gave me letters she had exchanged with that nobleman,” Changwook continues, adding a few drops from a small bottle into the mortar. “Whenever he would reply, he would also send back the letter my mother had addressed him. To avoid keeping any incriminating evidence, I guess. Reading through them, I discovered he used to visit her, sometimes. Yet...he never asked to meet me. He just kept sending her money from time to time.”

Jongin feels his chest hurt for the man. Ignored by his real father, and treated unfairly by the man who raised him; it’s no wonder why Changwook had left to seek a better life after his mother’s passing.

“All I had was a name, but I was determined to find him,” the apprentice says, slicing a weird-looking white root in small pieces. “I wanted to know. I wanted to understand why he never tried to reach out to me. But when I eventually found him, he just…” he trails, sighing as he shakes his head.

Most likely nothing like what he expected.

“My mother’s death had made my adoptive father even rougher with me, so I left for good. I decided to fulfill my mother’s wish.”

Once again, Jongin’s stomach clamps at the words. He could effortlessly understand Changwook’s decision.

“She wanted me to become a doctor, so coming here seemed like the right thing to do.”

“It was.”

“His Majesty the King was kind enough to receive me when I sought an audience, like you told me to.”

Jongin lets out a tired chuckle, remembering the day he saw Changwook for the first time, barely looking human after the long journey he had been through. Nothing could’ve let Jongin imagine, that day, that he would end up having such a personal conversation with the man.

“I never thought he would be so gracious,” Changwook continues, a small smile now present on his previously grief-stricken face. “But when he heard my story, and how I was treated by my mother’s husband, he offered me to become an apprentice for the Royal Physician. This was so much more than I could ever have hoped for.”

“The Royal Physician is getting old,” Jongin says before pausing to cough. “And between you and me, I have lost trust in him long ago. It’s quite nice to have you come here on his behalf.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Changwook replies, bowing his head with a grateful smile. “I’ll do my best to uphold the faith you and His Majesty are placing in me.”

For a moment, Jongin only watches as the apprentice prepares his remedies, observing how quickly his hands work, grinding, cutting, mixing and pouring. It’s relaxing, somehow making him sleepy again. His expression is entirely focused, vaguely reminding him of how Kyungsoo looks, sometimes.

As the hybrid’s face flashes in his mind amongst the thought of the conversation he just had with Changwook, a memory comes with it, and he opens his lips tentatively.

“Your mother… I’m sure she is proud of you,” he says, remembering how soothed he had felt when Kyungsoo had told him the same thing.

Hopefully, it would have the same effect on Changwook.

“This is all I can hope for,” the man replies, his thankful smile proving Jongin right. “I wish I could have buried her in her hometown. She grew up down south of the palace, near Yeosan’s border,” he adds with a longing smile. “She hated the cold. Of course, she never said anything, but I know how hard it had been to be exiled in a northern village.”

“…Thank you for sharing all this with me,” Jongin says after a long silence.

“Thank you for listening, Your Highness,” Changwook replies, offering him another grin. “Somehow...I felt like you would understand.”

“I do,” Jongin nods, his mother’s smile floating in the back of his mind and making his heart clench. “I truly do.”

Before long, the apprentice excuses himself, and Jongin hears him give instructions about the remedies to Hoseong. The eunuch soon enters, two court ladies on his heels with trays covered in food.

With a frown, Jongin’s eyes land on the door, expecting to see Kyungsoo follow behind. When no one else shows up, however, he turns to look at Hoseong, who is arranging the dishes on the small table he brought in.

“Where is Kyungsoo?” he asks, before starting to cough again.

“I’m not sure, Your Highness,” the eunuch replies, patting his back just like Changwook had done earlier. “I haven’t seen him since he brought you here, yesterday.”

Suddenly, a sense of dread makes Jongin’s inside uncomfortably stir. He coughed in the hybrid’s face a few times when he was helping him.

“Can you make sure he is all right?” he asks Hoseong, the slight urgency in his voice clearly audible even to him. “ I’m concerned he might’ve fallen sick as well.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“If he doesn’t feel well, ask Changwook-ssi to examine him.”

“I will,” Hoseong nods, before sliding the small table closer. “You need to eat so that you can take your medicine.”

Jongin is anything but hungry. But knowing Hoseong, if he says so, the eunuch will start anxiously gush again, and he is way too tired to be able to reassure him properly. So, with a little nod, he lets him help to adjust his position and eyes the dishes. A few spoonfuls of soup should be enough to ease Hoseong’s mind.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

During the next three days, Jongin experiences the worst flu he ever had. His entire body is aching with the slightest movement, his head seems to continually be on the verge of imploding, while his lungs appear to be on a mission to prevent him from breathing properly. Changwook’s remedies have somewhat helped his fever to go down on the first day, but have been ineffective since then, and Jongin has been unabatedly sweating and shivering. Even the cold baths Hoseong helped him in have been useless.

Yet, through the haze, Jongin has been relentlessly searching for a face amongst the many concerned people going in and out of his room. Any occasion he got, he has asked Hoseong about Kyungsoo, only to get disappointed.

“I haven’t seen him much,” the eunuch said the first night. “He wasn’t with the other hybrids at dinner.”

“Could you bring some food in his room, then?” Jongin had requested, voice hoarse and slurred as the remedy to help him sleep was starting to work. “Meat. And fruits.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Then, the next morning, with eyes squeezed in pain as he tried to turn on his side to cough, he had asked again.

“Do you wish me to find him and bring him here?” Hoseong had asked, voice hesitant.

“No. It’s all right. I don’t want to bother him,” Jongin had replied before a coughing fit had prevented him from talking for a long moment. “He wouldn’t have much to do. Just...make sure he is fine.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Admittedly, Jongin mostly didn’t want Kyungsoo to risk catching his flu, but it would’ve been rather insensitive to say this out loud, considering Hoseong had to spend so much time by his side, exposing himself to fall sick as well.

He kept asking, though, every time the eunuch came to make sure he was all right. At some point, he even started asking the court ladies and the hybrid domestics. He is almost certain he also questioned Eunha and Seohyun when they came to visit him. Yet, he only got vague answers.

“I caught a glimpse of him early this morning, Your Highness,” Haejin had said. “At breakfast. He seemed all right.”

“Could you make sure, for me?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

He was not truly expecting the snow leopard to visit him, and he knew he should at least be glad the hybrid didn’t use his sickness as an opportunity to try to escape, but he couldn’t get rid of the weight in his chest every time he thought about him.

Which is why, when he started feeling a little better on the fourth evening, headache only a light drumming against his temple, Jongin asked Hoseong to help him get dressed.

Of course, the eunuch had insisted for him to eat something and made sure he took his medicine before agreeing, earning an eye roll from the Crown Prince, who had complied nonetheless, knowing it would only lengthen the process if he complained. He didn’t even get mad when Hoseong threw him a victorious grin. He was right to be proud; very few people could boast about getting Jongin to listen to them.

 

“I can walk by myself,” he says, giving a pointed look to Hoseong, whose hands keeps hovering near his arm, ready to catch him as he makes his way toward the front doors.

“Your Highness is still recovering,” the eunuch says, in that usual anxious tone. “Your fever might have gone down, but you need to be careful.”

“I won’t stay outside for too long. I just want to breathe some fresh air for a little while.”

Hoseong doesn’t look as reassured as he would like, but eventually, he nods and steps forward, hands reaching out for the door handles. Jongin might have acceded to some of his requests, but he remains the Crown Prince; the eunuch knows there is a line he cannot cross, and that includes reminding him the air outside is actually damp, heavy, and anything but fresh.

Finding Kyungsoo will probably not be easy. He might start by Jongdae’s living quarters, then Seohyun’s. And if the hybrid is neither with his brother nor his niece, he might have to look for him in the domestics’ quarters.

His little strategy ends up being cut short, however, when Hoseong pulls the doors open, and Jongin finds himself standing right in front of the very one he has been waiting to see.

“You’re here,” he breathes out in a daze, blinking to make sure he is not imagining him.

“…I heard you were feeling better.”

There is some tension in his voice, the same Jongin can see in his posture, as if he were surprised to see him there.

He is about to nod when Hoseong decides this is the right moment to contribute to the conversation.

“His Highness still needs to rest,” he says with a poorly concealed disapproving undertone. “But he insisted on walking outside for a bit.”

“You should stay in,” Kyungsoo replies, eyes not moving from Jongin’s face.

“All right.”

“What?”

Glancing at Hoseong, Jongin can see the exclamation came out without him meaning to. Of course he must be confused; he couldn’t have possibly known the only reason Jongin wanted to go out was to find the person who is about to come _in_.

Who cares about fresh air, really?

He merely offers a brief smile to the eunuch, before turning on his heels and slowly heading toward the main room’s sitting mat. He would never admit it out loud, but Hoseong was right. His body is still aching, and standing for a few minutes already made him a little lightheaded again. It’s a relief that Kyungsoo magically showed up when he was about to hunt him throughout the palace grounds.

Hoseong is still looking quite baffled by the sudden turnaround when Jongin looks up at him, eyes shifting between the Crown Prince and the hybrid, who has silently entered the room and started walking toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

“Wait!”

A bit too loud, the call ends up making him cough, and the eunuch is soon back by his side, patting his back as he tries to get some air into his clenching lungs. Kyungsoo has stopped by the hallway entrance, staring at him over his shoulder, apparently waiting to know what Jongin wants.

When he is finally able to breathe correctly, Jongin blinks away the tears that gathered in his eyes and straightens his back a little.

“Could you get some food, Hoseong?” he asks the alarmed eunuch, who instantly nods and rushes out, looking way too happy at the idea of Jongin willingly eating. “Eat with me?” he then asks Kyungsoo after clearing his hoarse throat.

“I just had dinner.”

Still standing on the same spot, not even properly facing him, Kyungsoo doesn’t seem in such a good mood.

“He might bring some meat,” Jongin says, trying to sound a bit cheerful.

Meat always worked on the hybrid.

“I’m tired. I was hoping I’d get to sleep.”

Always, except this time, apparently.

Confused, Jongin frowns. Had Kyungsoo not said he came back here when he heard the Crown Prince was feeling better?

Why does he look like he doesn’t want to stay with him, even if only for a few minutes?

Could the hybrid be actually upset? Mad that Jongin is not sick anymore? Is this why he came back? To see by himself if it was true?

He might have had some freedom during the days Jongin spent in bed with a raging fever, but at the idea of him wishing that he had stayed ill longer, he feels his chest painfully cramp.

“Oh… I see…”

“Can I?”

It’s odd to hear Kyungsoo ask for permission. He never does. But too busy trying to conceal how disappointed he feels, Jongin ignores it and simply nods, averting his gaze.

“Sure. Have a good night.”

No response, and it’s only because his eyes involuntarily flicker toward they feline, that he sees the curt nod before he disappears in the hallway.

The food tastes particularly bland, that night.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Extra sensitive content in this chapter!**

The list of things Jongin dislikes is rather long.

Up until recently, it was topped by rainy weathers. The following things are both non-exhaustive as well as interchangeable and include wasps, grapes, papercuts, being ridiculed, the crown on his head, and many more. Before, he used to slide Jongdae’s name in there. Since his visit to Pyungpo, King Taegeun has earned a safe spot in the first three.

But when Jongin enters the main room the next morning, freshly bathed, dressed and feeling more like a human being than he did in the past five days, the look on Taeil’s face as he stands stiff in front of the open doors tells him he might be about to add something on that list.

“His Majesty wishes to see you as soon as possible.”

His friend looks too hesitant, almost fearful, for it to be a simple request. Something tells him it has nothing to do with the meeting they deferred when he fell sick.

“What did he say exactly?” Jongin asks with furrowed brows, slowly rolling his shoulders to ease the remnants of the soreness.

The way Taeil averts his gaze is definitely not a good sign.

“He wants Your Highness to meet him promptly...in the military building. And…”

“And?” he urges in a sharper tone than he intended.

“He said... He said to bring the hybrid with you.”

“His name is Kyungsoo.”

“I know,” Taeil breathes, eyes falling on the floor.

It only takes a few seconds for Jongin to understand these are his father’s words, not Taeil’s.

“All right,” he sighs, raking his mind to try to figure out what this could be about. “Is he there already?”

“He is, Your Highness.”

“I’m assuming he did not give you a reason, did he?”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” the guard replies, gaze still cast down.

He hasn’t answered. Not really. He might know something, but Jongin guesses he was explicitly told, _ordered_ , to keep his mouth shut.

That doesn’t bode well. But Jongin was right. Being summoned by the King, with _Kyungsoo,_ and in the security building surely makes an excellent addition to the list. Even more so when he catches sight of Sehun standing right outside the doors.

Taeil is not just a messenger. He and Sehun are here to _escort_ Jongin and Kyungsoo.

 

Unless it is of absolute necessity, Jongin rarely enters Kyungsoo’s bedroom. He promised him, long ago, that this room was for him to feel at home, and despite how wrong he had worded it, in his mind, it also meant being able to be alone when he wanted or needed to.

Which is why he feels rather uncomfortable as he stands in front of that door, hands hovering above the indentation on the side of the wood panel, hesitating to open it. He received no answer when he knocked, and none again when he called the feline’s name, so, after another minute of silent dithering, Jongin sighs, and carefully slides the door.

Unsurprisingly, the window is wide open, letting the earthy smell of the pouring rain saturate the room.

Jongin woke up way earlier than usual, this morning, before Hoseong or any of the court ladies could even show up, which both explains why he spots Kyungsoo’s form still under his cover, but also makes the King’s request all the stranger. The sun is barely even lighting up the dense blanket of crying clouds.

Standing just past the threshold, Jongin bites the inside of his cheek, wondering how he is supposed to wake Kyungsoo up and explain the situation when he knows so little about it. Lost in his thoughts, his gaze is aimlessly wandering around the room, when a small movement catches his eyes on the far back corner. Glancing at Kyungsoo, he finds him still sleeping soundly, so, with cautious steps, Jongin crosses the room and crouches.

It looks like a small altar, some sort of shrine perhaps, with on its center, a seemingly handcrafted ornament, or maybe a talisman of some sort, made out of things the hybrid probably gathered over the months. The twigs form a quirky star shape, surrounded by slightly thicker sticks linking each of the five points and covered in tiny symbols carved into the wood. Bound together with pieces of thin, worn out rope, it also holds different feathers that Jongin can recall seeing in Kyungsoo’s hands, as well as some variously shaped and colored pebbles and a few leaves he recognizes from the trees in the gardens.

Jongin has never seen anything like this, but what baffles him even more is what lies in the center of the ornament. It’s small, but its color is unmistakable, and Jongin confusedly blinks as he stares at the Japanese painted fern leaf.

The whole item is odd, yet curiously beautiful. The feathers and leaves are lightly swaying with the damp breeze coming from the window, making the faintest, softest sound when they catch the rough edge of a twig. And Jongin might have stayed there to stare at it longer, had a rustling of fabric behind him not reached his ears.

Getting back up, he turns around intending to ask Kyungsoo about what it is, only for his eyes to land on silver and black.

Standing near to his futon, one hand still holding his cover by his thigh, Kyungsoo is looking at him with narrowed eyes, a clenched jaw, tense shoulders, and a very, _very_ naked chest.

It takes one second too long before Jongin is whirling back around, bulging out eyes boring a hole into the wall.

“Wh- why are only wearing your baji?” he asks in a wavering voice, trying to will his mind to forget how _low_ the pants were falling on his hips.

“It’s too hot at night,” Kyungsoo states in an impassive tone.

At any other time, Jongin would have probably commented that he could wear his tunic and discard the cover instead. But with images of pale skin and black ink flashing behind his eyelids every time he blinks, the remark somehow gets lost in the warmth pooling in his guts.

 “Are you-” he starts, pausing to clear his throat when his voice slightly cracks. “Are you done getting properly dressed?”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

Biting the inside of his cheek harder than he usually does, Jongin quietly exhales.

The line of silver hair trailing below the hybrid’s navel is more than what he can handle, so early in the morning.

“Can you, then?”

Soft footsteps and more rustling of fabric. Jongin waits, trying his best to keep his breathing as even as possible. He starts reciting random parts of the Analects in his head, just to avoid thinking how Kyungsoo is probably _naked_ , right behind him.

Of course, he lamentably fails, and the thought rips a little cough out of him that he tries to stifle through gritted teeth.

“I’m done,” Kyungsoo eventually says.

Just in case, Jongin waits for a few more seconds before carefully peeking out over his shoulder to make sure the hybrid looks decent.

He doesn’t. Not really.

In the faint light entering the room, the unearthly aura is more enhanced than ever. His eyes are gleaming, still full of sleep, contrasting with the black rim lining them.

But he is dressed, at least, and Jongin will just need to compel his heart to slow down its frantic space. Hopefully, it’s still too dark for Kyungsoo’s enhanced vision to catch how red his cheeks must be.

“Could you come with me?” he says when Kyungsoo keeps staring at him, visibly pending an explanation as to what the Crown Prince is doing here. “I’m… We’re awaited somewhere.”

Something shifts in his stance. It’s too subtle for Jongin to be able to pinpoint what it is, but it makes him uncomfortable, almost reminding him of how he felt, back when he had just met the hybrid. The silence is oddly charged, and Jongin has started chewing the inside of his cheek when Kyungsoo finally nods.

He can feel the snow leopard’s step falter when they enter the main room and both Taeil and Sehun are now standing in the middle of it. Something is definitely off; he can see it on Kyungsoo’s face when he steals a glance at him.

“It’s all right,” he breathes quietly, knowing the hybrid’s ears will catch it. “They’re just here to accompany us. Right?” he then asks louder, looking back at the two guards.

His tone might have been a bit too sharp, and coupled with his steady gaze, it somehow results in his friends averting their eyes. They don’t reply, however, which surely does not augur a pleasant outcome.

The downpour has turned into a light drizzle when they exit his pavilion. It’s calm outside, still too early for the usual comings and goings filling the alleys. Kyungsoo walks on his left, a step behind as if he were keeping a safe distance between them despite Sehun closely following.

Jongin’s nerves are not doing well the closer they come to the security building. He is about to get scolded, that much is obvious. And although this too is part of the list of things he dislikes, not knowing what he did to deserve a lecture is making it all more daunting than unpleasant.

It gets even worse when, once in the building, Taeil goes straight for the stairs and starts climbing down without replying to Jongin when he asks where exactly they’re going. There are a few guards in the underground hallway, watching them arrive and slightly bowing one after the other when Jongin passes in front of them. This is anything but reassuring, considering only two of the cells have someone inside.

Taeil keeps walking, only briefly nodding at his comrades, and Jongin freezes when he sees his friend turn on his left and reach for a handle.

He knows what room hides behind that door. He was only allowed in once, back when he was seventeen. He hadn’t been able to eat anything for the three following days.

Noticing he has stopped, Taeil glances at him. By his expression, Jongin knows he is not prepared for whatever is inside. He has half in mind to turn around and leave when his friend’s gaze flickers toward Kyungsoo, who has stopped right by his side. Before he even realizes what he is doing, Jongin has already stepped in front of the hybrid, shielding him from Taeil’s sight. The glare he sends him is enough for the soldier to look away.

“What is going on?” Jongin asks through gritted teeth, his hand unconsciously sliding behind him to grab Kyungsoo’s arm.

“I… I can’t…” Taeil starts in a weak voice. “Please, follow me, Your Highness.”

“Sehun?” Jongin calls without averting his eyes from Taeil.

“Just...please, follow him. His Majesty is waiting.”

Under his fingers, he feels Kyungsoo’s muscles go rigid, shaky exhale colliding with the back of his neck before the hybrid pries his wrist free from Jongin’s hold. And this is when he realizes. He hasn’t done anything. Kyungsoo is the one being in trouble, and the hybrid knows exactly why. It’s been days; the weird, aloof behavior, the lack of conversation, the previous night’s rejection…

What could he have done that made him think he needed to put some distance between them to hide it from Jongin?

He wants to turn around and ask, to try to understand what happened before they have to face his father. Perhaps then he could come up with an excuse that would keep Kyungsoo safe. But Taeil has already opened the door, and the moment has passed.

No one keeps the King waiting. Not even the Crown Prince.

It takes all his willpower to get his legs to move, but when Jongin eventually enters the room, a heavy weight instantly falls in the pit of his stomach, splashes of red flashing both in front of his eyes and in his memory. Kyungsoo is just as distraught by the sight, judging by the way he froze, right by Jongin’s side.

The four hybrids knelt on the dirt ground are covered in blood, hands tied behind their back tight enough to pull their shoulder back in a painful-looking angle. It’s too dark to see their faces, the two only torches lighting the room being near the door.

“What is this?” Jongin breathes, glancing at one of the four guards already present in the room.

Instead of getting an answer, Jongin’s eyes catch a movement behind the bloodied hybrids, an imposing figure slowly walking around them. He recognizes him even before he steps into the light.

“Come here,” the King curtly says.

Next to him, he hears Kyungsoo’s breathing slightly quicken, yet, when he peeks, the hybrid’s face is completely emotionless.

“Both of you.”

Compelling his body to move again, Jongin obeys, and Kyungsoo follows.

“Good. Now, you,” his father calls, turning to look at one of the hybrids.

Jongin is now close enough to notice they can barely even stand straight on their knees, and the crimson color gets even more vivid when two of the guards approach with torches in their hands.

Jongin’s heart misses a beat the moment the hybrid being called weakly lifts her head. She is one of Soojung’s maids. And when his eyes slide along the three others, he realizes they all are.

What had his father’s wife done? Had she beat them down again and accused _Kyungsoo_ , to make Jongin pay for threatening her?

“Why don’t you share with us what you so kindly informed me of, earlier?” the King says, his voice sardonically soft.

Had Soojung really gotten the hybrids to lie about who was responsible for their injuries? It wouldn’t explain why their hands were restrained, but coming from her, Jongin wouldn’t be surprised if she had managed to also incriminates the maids in the process.

Blood dripping on her cheek from the cut under her swollen eye, and fear engraved in her traits, the pug hybrid starts awkwardly bowing again and again.

“Please forgive us Your Majesty!” she implores, voice hoarse and weak “Please! We won’t do it again! Please let us leave! Forgive us Your-”

“Enough.”

By the boredom sipping in his father’s sharp tone, Jongin knows this is not the first time the girl pleads like this.

“I asked you something.”

Sniffling, the girl visibly tries to regain control of her erratic breathing, and hesitates, glancing at Kyungsoo, then at the King, before looking back toward the ground.

“We- we were helped,” she pathetically sobs, a mix of snot and blood dripping from her bruised nose. “Someone helped us escape.”

Confused, Jongin frowns as he stares at the four of them.

Escape? What had gotten into their head all of a sudden? Clearly, the getaway plan had failed, considering they were all there. But no hybrid had ever tried to escape before.

Except…

“Who?”

Somehow, his father’s simple question seems to unlock something in Jongin’s mind, and all the pieces fall together.

He doesn’t need the hybrid to answer. He knows.

“The s-snow leopard.”

 

Betrayal.

This is the predominant emotion flooding inside Jongin’s veins, paralyzing him as his lids fall shut. By his side, Kyungsoo has stopped breathing, probably feeling the same, albeit directed at someone different.

“This is rather upsetting,” the King calmly says, nodding with a feigned pensive expression. “Don’t you think so, son?”

Body rigid, Jongin remains silent as he opens his eyes. Too many things are going on in his head for him to be able to decipher what he really feels. But he does know that _upsetting_ wouldn’t be the right term to explain the burning pain in his chest, spreading in waves down to his fingertips.

It hurts.

And it rips a shaky breath out of him, which instantly earns a tutting sound from his father.

“Now, now,” the King says as if to soothe him. “I told you to tame it, Jongin. I thought I had been quite clear about what I expected from you.”

His eyes are stinging when he feels Kyungsoo briefly glancing at him, but he refuses to move his gaze away from the red stain on the ground, where blood has soaked the dirt.

He trusted him.

“But instead of obeying, you went on and _befriended_ it,” his father continues, slowly strolling toward him. “You let it do as it pleased, and see where that has gotten you. A rogue hybrid wreaking havoc in my palace.”

The large hand landing on his shoulder feels heavy, oppressive, making his breath falter as if it was pressed against his throat instead.

He has been a fool.

It hurts so much.

“Tell me, how are you supposed to rule a kingdom if you can’t tame _one_ hybrid?” his father says, fingers digging into his skin, contradicting the composed tone he speaks in. “Do you think our people would ever hold any respect for a crown prince who cannot discipline a simple _animal_?”

His vision is getting blurry as his heartbeat picks up, ears ringing and pain rippling all over his body.

He has shared so much with the snow leopard. And in return, he has been betrayed, shoved into a situation he knows he can’t escape.

“This is not something I can tolerate.”

Of course, it’s not. The King has gotten people executed for less than that. However, there would be no point in just killing Kyungsoo. If this were what his father planned, he easily could, and probably would have done so without even prior informing Jongin.

This entire act, the staging, the summoning, the beaten hybrids, and the calm speech; it is not about what Kyungsoo has done.

It’s about the lesson he wants the _Crown Prince_ to learn.

“Tie it up.”

The faint echo of the Monarch’s words hasn’t died down yet, that two guards are already grabbing Kyungsoo. From the corner of his eyes, Jongin sees him struggle to break free before his father pulls him to the side, turning him so that he faces the snow leopard, whose hands are being locked into heavy, rusted shackles. As one of the guards fastens a chain hanging from the ceiling to the cuffs, wrists at eye-level, the other one has already used a dagger to rip the back of the hybrid’s tunic.

Hands clenched in tight fists, Jongin bites the inside of his cheek, avoiding Kyungsoo’s eyes when he looks in his direction, still yanking his hand down with panic written all over his face.

It’s almost funny, really. How can he even look so surprised, when he is the one who stepped out of line?

Did he actually think he would succeed? That the four hybrids would manage to escape? That they would keep their mouth shut if they got caught?

Did he believe Jongin would never find out? Or that he would keep it a secret like he did every single time the feline has tried to escape?

Did he think he wouldn’t mind being betrayed? That he wouldn’t be hurt?

And what does he even expect from him, now?

To step in? To stop his father?

After everything Jongin told him about the King, if this is truly what the hybrid is wordlessly asking with his eyes, then he must be a lot less clever than Jongin thought.

No one goes against his father. Not even the future King.

“Go ahead,” the Monarch calmly orders, his hand still on Jongin’s shoulder.

“How many, Your Majesty?”

“Let’s not give ourselves this sort of restrictions.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The first whipping noise soon reverberates in the silence, and Jongin’s eyes unconsciously shoot up. He can barely see the hybrid’s face with the way they positioned him. Only his clenched jaw.

By the second strike of the bamboo cane, there is already an angry red, swollen line where it hit the hybrid’s back the first time.

As the guard keeps whipping him at regular intervals, Kyungsoo’s breathing grows heavier, quiet grunts escaping his lips with every blow. He stopped struggling, though, holding his head low, eyes squeezed shut and temple pressed against his wrists. His face being angled slightly toward him, Jongin can now see the layer of sweat slowly building on his forehead, drops slowly following the indents the scars created in his cheek.

A faint moan gets ripped out of him when the guard hits him harder, and with a quick glance toward his back, Jongin’s eyes catch the first crimson pearl, right on the edge of the black line curving around his right shoulder blade.

More comes as the soldier keeps increasing the strength of his caning, the bruised skin eventually giving up and starting to tear. A wave of nausea makes Jongin’s stomach heave when Kyungsoo lets out a hoarse cry, following a particularly hard blow on his lower back, right where the flesh has already been exposed by previous strikes. The guard is lifting his arm, ready to continue, and the words come out on their own accord.

“That’s enough.”

He knows he made a mistake even before the echo of his voice has faded away. The fingers digging in his shoulder have him grit his teeth as fear starts crawling along his nape. Not for him, but for Kyungsoo, who is undoubtedly about to pay for Jongin’s objection.

“It’ll be enough when I say so,” the King sternly says. “Keep going,” he adds to the guard who has turned to look at them.

The cane whooshes in the air, red drops flying off. At the lightning-thwack sound it produces when it collides with Kyungsoo’s back, Jongin snap his head away, eyes closing. The metallic smell of blood is suffocating, seeming to get heavier with each of the short breaths he can hear coming from the snow leopard.

“You don’t get to look away,” his father sharply says, a hand suddenly grabbing his chin and bringing his head in front. “This is _your_ doing. _Your_ fault. _You_ didn’t tame it properly. And _you_ will witness the consequences of your mistake.”

A strike, then another one, each punctuated by a choked whimper, and Jongin doesn’t even realize he has started to lean away, shaking his head and shoulder to break free from his father’s painful grip.

His body, however, is still recovering from his sickness, and he can’t do much when the King grabs his upper arm and yank him forward until he stands right next to Kyungsoo. A moment later, his father has ripped the cane from the guard’s hand and pushed it against Jongin’s palm.

“You refuse to watch?” he says, his anger starting to sip through the composed façade he has kept all along. “Very well. You can keep your eyes closed as you punish it yourself.”

With those words, he shoves Jongin where the guard stood a second before.

His hand is shaking, the weight of the cane bringing back memories from that day when he was seventeen, and his father forced him to whip a man until the shredded skin of his back was painted ruby. Jongin had threw up, that night, alone in his bathroom, his never-ending tears mixing with the blood that had splashed on his face.

He didn’t know who that man was, having only been told he was a thief. So, despite feeling sick before he even started, Jongin had obeyed, his father’s heavy and unrelenting stare burning the back of his head.

He learned over the years that ruling over a kingdom sometimes entails making difficult choices. And no matter how many objectors his father has, and how criticized he is, Jongin has always believed him to be fair. And whenever something happened that started flaking his faith off, his father would, usually involuntarily, restore the respect Jongin has for him, with the smallest actions or words, proving that he does care about his people.

His mother wanted him to be a good king, and as far as Jongin is concerned, his father remains the best example he could ever have.

But at this moment, with the Monarch’s stare locked on his face, and Kyungsoo’s bloodied back in front of his eyes, he cannot will his arm to move.

And before he knows it, the word has escaped his lips.

“No.”

The silence grows suffocating as he tries his best not to avert his gaze from his father’s. He feels gauged, seeing the anger simmering right under the cold, severe surface.

No one disobeys the King. Even less his own son.

“This is not up for debate,” his father says, voice eerily calm. “I was not asking.”

“Neither was I,” Jongin retorts in a heartbeat, fingers clamping around the cane.

In his peripheral vision, he can see the guards, including Taeil and Sehun, send each other nervous glances. He ignores it, though, focusing on his father, whose head slightly lowers, a silent fire sparking in his narrowed eyes.

“You will obey me, Jongin,” he says slowly, tone audibly menacing.

“Not this time.”

His answer is curt, and yet, it doesn’t feel definite enough. So, lifting his chin, Jongin suddenly drops the cane on the ground, listening as it rolls on the dirt, ending its course at his father’s feet.

Once again, a heavily charged silence engulfs the dimly lit room, so thick it almost feels tangible.

He never talked back to his father like that, let alone so openly disrespected him in front of people. So, when a low, unamused chuckle reaches his ears, Jongin feels his blood turn to ice.

“I see,” the King says with a nod. “It would appear I made a mistake.”

With a frown instantly creasing the space between his brows, Jongin stares at him, confused.

“Untie it,” his father orders, curtly nudging his chin toward the snow leopard.

The King has never landed a hand on him, but as Jongin watches him bend and pick up the cane lying in front of his feet, he has to use all his willpower not to flinch away.

One of the guards has already moved, unlocking the shackles around Kyungsoo’s wrists.

Despite how weak he is, the hybrid looks alarmed, trying to yank his hands down to hasten the process. When his legs look like they’re about to give up, however, it only takes two long strides for Sehun to be by his side and prevent him from dropping down. Jongin remains still, fighting the urge to step forward to catch him. It wouldn’t do any good. And he still doesn’t know what his father meant, but as he meets the King’s icy stare, the dread suddenly falling in his guts tells him the worst is yet to come.

He only has to wait for a few seconds before being proved right.

“On your knees.”

“…What?”

The question, despite escaping his lips in a breath, still resonates in the room, amongst the quiet gasps coming from the guards.

“On. Your. Knees,” the King repeats in a deep voice, detaching every word as his eyes never waver away from Jongin’s.

He stares and stares again, trying to catch in his father gaze a sign that he doesn’t mean it, that he is just angry and acting on an impulse. But he finds nothing.

Nothing but cold rage.

So Jongin averts his eyes, looking ahead. And with his back remaining straight in a proud stance, he crouches, and eventually lets his knees hit the ground, one after the other. With slow movements, his hands come up, and he unties his gonryongpo, then his jeogori, calmly sliding his arms out of the sleeves and letting the clothes pool around his waist, laying in wrinkles on his lap.

As he waits, he spots the cuffs the guard has discarded a meter away, and that’s when he realizes.

The degrading position. No shackles around his wrists. No chain to hold him in place.

His father expects him to take the punishment without attempting to withdraw.

To shows that he willingly submits.

To prove that he knows he deserves it.

And when the King presses the cane into Kyungsoo’s palm, nudging his head toward his son, Jongin almost feels like scoffing.

He should have seen it coming.

“Go ahead,” his father says when the hybrid remains immobile even after Sehun has stepped away.

He can feel Kyungsoo’s eyes darting toward him, feel the uncomfortable aura coming from the guards, and the unrelenting stare of his father. Yet, neither of them move.

Not even Jongin.

He patiently waits.

Whatever pain will come won’t be able to hurt more than his chest does.

“Do you need to be reminded again that I know where to find that tribe of yours, or would you rather do as you’re told?”

A minute ago, had Jongin been asked, he would have said that, considering everything that has happened over the months, the escapes attempts, the way the hybrid had slowly gained his trust, only to betray him, and what he has just endured, the chances of Kyungsoo standing his ground and refusing to follow the order were pretty thin. Although, deep down, he wouldn’t have been able to fight that sliver of hope poisoning his blood, crawling in his veins like the most vicious venom.

But at this moment, as his father’s word echoes in the silence, he knows.

Out of all the threat the King could’ve thrown at him, there is one Kyungsoo will never take lightly. The only thing he will never risk, regardless of who gets hurt as long as he can ensure it: his family’s safety.

And just like that, Jongin grits his teeth, bracing himself, ready for when, inevitably, the first strike comes.

 

He has felt pain many times in his nineteen years of life. Sometimes stupidly, because of wasps, and sometimes accidentally, when a table finds itself in his path. Other times unfortunately, because he fell sick, and sometimes even voluntarily, when he tries to push past his limits during training.

This time, however, he doesn’t know how to categorize it.

Because this time, the pain is not solely physical.

It goes much, much deeper, and every single blow is echoed by a pang in his chest, burning just as hard as the cane on his skin, and ringing just as loud as the sound of its impacts.

The hits fall irregularly spaced out, some stronger than others, rendering him unable to anticipate what will come next.

The King’s voice sounds distant whenever he orders the snow leopard to keep going, and it gets lost in the whistling of Jongin’s ears.

The smell of blood is smothering, saturating the air all around, and slithering inside his lungs like thick smoke. He can feel the skin on his back tearing more with each blow, the now rough surface of the cane, worn out by the prolonged use, grating against the skin and leaving splinters in the exposed flesh.

Yet, Jongin doesn’t move. He doesn’t even shut his eyes.

He stops counting after the twenty-third hit.

By then, he can taste metal in his mouth, from how hard he is biting the inside of his cheek to compel himself to remain silent.

He _refuses_ to make a sound.

He will not give his father and Kyungsoo the satisfaction of hearing him whimper.

When a particularly hard strike sends a sharp wave of pain all along his spine, his back slightly arches on its own, and his tongue replaces his cheek between his teeth.

“ _You’ll have to be strong._ ”

Had his mother ever imagined he would find himself in a situation like this? Had she said that because she knew how _weak_ her son would grow to be?

And wherever she is now, can she feel what Jongin feels? Can she feel the anger, the hate raging in every cell of his being, coursing inside his veins and dripping out with each pearl of blood trickling down his back?

Does she know how much he despises himself for being so weak, for stepping in and refusing to follow his father’s order? Does she know how much he hates Kyungsoo for making him want to protect him, in spite of everything the hybrid did to hurt him?

Does she know that even now, as the cane collides with his back in a deafening thwack, the pain finally making his upper body tip forward as his hands shoot toward the ground to catch himself, he still can’t help but think that, given the choice, he would react exactly the same way?

“That’s enough.”

Eyes boring a hole in front of him, Jongin hears the sound of the cane bouncing as it falls on the dirt. Shaky breaths that aren’t his own are reaching his ears from behind.

“You,” his father calls. “Bring the Crown Prince back to his living quarters. Make sure he gets seen by the Royal Physician.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“As for you, hybrid,” the King continues just as one of the guard crouches by his side. “I would suggest the utmost caution in the future. My mercy has its limit.”

The fabric of his jeogori burns when it touches his back, immediately sticking to his skin as it soaks the blood covering it. He recognizes Taeil’s hands carefully lifting his arms to pass them through the sleeves.

His father is already by the door when the guard gently places the dragon robe back on his shoulders.

“I dare hope I made myself sufficiently clear, son.”

Without waiting for the answer Jongin wouldn’t have given him anyway, the King exits the room, his two personal guards on his heels.

“You have to get up, Your Highness,” Taeil whispers.

He can feel the lacerations tear a bit more as he does what he’s told. Not uttering a word, Jongin lets both Taeil and Sehun help him to get on his feet and doesn’t protest when they pass his arms around their shoulders.

He keeps his eyes straight ahead when they walk by Kyungsoo, whose own gaze is cast on the ground.

They take the long route back, using smaller alleys that only a few domestics ever pass through and going around the large pond. Jongin remains silent, but he is glad his friends decided to do so. With the sun being fully up, the palace grounds are surely buzzing with life by now.

Thankfully, Hoseong is not there when they finally reach his pavilion, and Sehun rushes to open the door, leaving it to Taeil to help him up the stairs.

The youngest of them three heads out after muttering a few words to Taeil, who nods in return. By then, the searing pain radiating in his entire body forces Jongin to put almost all his weight on his friend, arm still propped on his shoulders.

“We need to get him to his bedroom,” the guard says, and Jongin only realizes he is not addressing him when he feels hands curling around the arm hanging by his side.

The next second, his body reacts before any thought has fully formed in his mind. Yanking his arm free, Jongin detaches himself from Taeil and whirls around, palms colliding with Kyungsoo’s chest and shoving him away. The motion is too quick, though, and his body too weak, and he ends up bumping into Taeil, who instantly catches him before he falls.

Caught off guard, Kyungsoo has stumbled back, eyes wide open locked into Jongin’s glowering ones. He looks stunned, and had the circumstances been entirely different, the Crown Prince might have teased him about his shocked expression.

He is anything but amused, however, and the longer Kyungsoo stares at him, the stronger the fire inside his chest rages.

His voice is deep when he finally speaks, pronunciation clear as to make sure the hybrid knows the need for an answer is _not up for debate_ , as his father would say.

“Is this what you were doing?”

Slightly shifting on his feet, Kyungsoo stays silent, ears flickering.

“Is this where you were for the past few days?”

Jongin sees the hybrid’s brows twitch, but once again, he doesn’t utter a word, only staring at him unwaveringly.

There is a weight inside his ribcage, pulling at his heart and thickening the air entering his lungs.

“While I was sick and feeling miserable, wondering where you had gone...”

This time, the snow leopard’s gaze flinches, blinking away only for a second, and Jongin’s throat clamps on itself.

Of course, he knows the answer already. He can even see it, written all over Kyungsoo’s face, carved into his silence. But he wants to hear it from him.

He _needs_ to hear it from him.

Because maybe then, the anger will finally take over, and he’ll stop feeling so _hurt_. Maybe then, his chest will stop aching, sending painful waves down to his fingertips. Maybe then, he won’t have to fight so hard to keep the tears away.

He wants to scream.

“While I was making a fool out of myself,” he says, hating himself for the quiver in his voice. “Asking everyone to make sure that you were all right. That you were not sick. That you had eaten…”

Kyungsoo’s Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps down, his tail twitching ever so slightly. He remains quiet, however, lips sealed, and Jongin feels the urge to suddenly grab him and shake the words out of his mouth.

“While I was worrying for you, even half-asleep and delirious with fever…”

“Your Highness, you should-”

“Answer me!” Jongin yells, interrupting Taeil.

Visibly startled, Kyungsoo’s eyes widen for a second as he stares at Jongin’s shaking body. His lips part, then close again. Jongin waits, fists clenched as he tries his best to stand tall, despite feeling his strength dwindling like sand between his fingers.

Then, after a few moments, Kyungsoo’s mouth open again, and Jongin stops breathing.

“Yes.”

Like a punch in the guts, the word hits him, stealing all the air locked in his lungs.

“Yes what?” he asks between gritted teeth, feeling his entire body vibrate.

“Yes, I took advantage of you being sick to help them. But-”

“That’ll be all.”

“Listen, I-”

“Get out!!!”

His shout reverberates against the walls, and he watches Kyungsoo stumble backward, lips parted and a crease between his brows.

For a few seconds, he looks like he is about to say something, but then, his mouth closes, and with a brief bow of the head, he turns around and exits the room.

The silence is deafening when the door shuts behind him, and like the aftermath of a tidal wave, Jongin feels all his energy being sucked out of him. Taeil catches him, making him wince when his back collides with his friend’s chest.

“Let me help you to your bedroom.”

Unable to protest, Jongin merely nods and lets himself be half-carried across his living quarters.

“I’ll go get the Royal Physician,” Taeil whispers when he has lain him face down on his sleeping mat.

“No,” Jongin breathes out. “Bring my sister.”

“But-”

“Please.”

With a sigh and a nod, Taeil eventually heads out, and Jongin lets his eyelids fall shut.

He was wrong.

So, so wrong.

Hearing it from Kyungsoo had only made the pain explode within his chest.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

“What happened?”

Knelt behind him, Seohyun is staring at his back.

Her tone is calm, but he can hear the concern lacing her voice. He is not sure what the wounds look like, but if the gasp she let out when she helped him undress after making him sit is anything to judge by, it must not be pretty. It doesn’t _feel_ pretty either.

“Nothing,” Jongin sighs, wondering how Taeil got her to come without even explaining why. “Can you fix this?”

“Fix it? Jongin, this is-… I’m not-... You should see the Royal Physician.”

“No.”

“What about Changwook-ssi, then? He is-”

“I don’t want anyone to see me like this!” he snaps, teeth gritted. “There, happy? Can you help or not?”

He knows he shouldn’t address her like that. Regardless of the years she has on him, she also has nothing to do with what happened. But there is a reason he called her, out of anyone. Seohyun is intimately familiar with caning wounds; she knows what they feel like. And he knows she also will remain discreet about it.

“I’m assuming Father is involved,” she eventually says after deeply sighing, earning a sarcastic chuckle from Jongin who glances over his shoulder.

“You’re cleverer than you look.”

The next second, a slender hand is slapping the side of his head, making him gasp.

“You’re supposed to help!” he says, rubbing the spot above his ear. “Not add another injury.”

“And you are supposed to respect your older sister. It seems like not doing what we should is a habit running in the family.”

Jongin can hardly contradict that statement. The list of things he and his siblings shouldn’t do would take days to write.

“Don’t move too much. I’ll be right back.”

As she gets on her feet, Jongin rolls his eyes, refraining from telling her he is not exactly in a state enabling him to run around.

When she comes back, longs minutes later, Seohyun is carrying a large bowl filled with steaming water, several cloths hanging on her forearm, and a small pouch stuck between her waist and elbow. She kneels behind him, offering her brother a small smile before getting to work.

He knows she is doing her best to be careful as she delicately cleans the blood that has started to dry, but with every swipe, he has to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent any sound from breaking out.

She has started to remove the splinters nailed in his flesh when he hears her sigh.

“Jongin… What happened?” she asks, now sounding more confused than worried. “The last time I saw you, you were barely coherent. You asked me if I could give Kyungsoo a tangerine.”

Wincing when she accidentally pinches a tiny bit of skin, Jongin swallows down the embarrassment, wondering where he is even supposed to start. During their last real conversation, he told his sister about Lady Soojung’s little scene, right before he got to talk to his father’s wife about it. So, with a sigh of his own, he begins by relating how he not so subtly threatened the King’s youngest consort.

He is not surprised to hear Seohyun click her tongue in disapproval, and yet, she doesn’t say anything. So he keeps going, telling her how distant Kyungsoo had been, even after Jongin told him he had kept his promise. He explains that he hadn’t seen the hybrid at all during his bedridden days, briefly mentioning she hadn’t been the only one he had bothered about Kyungsoo.

He feels her fingers freeze against his skin when he tells her about Taeil relaying the King’s summoning, this morning. Of course, all the signs were there, and her own experiences could make her see them better than he ever would.

“They had been beaten,” he says when he arrives at the part where they stepped in the underground room. “Father got one of them to confess who had helped them escape. Or try to.”

“…Kyungsoo.”

“Yes,” he nods. “He got him tied up and flogged,” he adds in a somber tone. “When I looked away, though… Well, father didn’t appreciate. So...he put the cane in my hand,” he says, stomach churning as he remembers the weight in his palm. “And when I refused…”

Behind him, he hears Seohyun hold her breath, bracing herself for his next words.

“He made _him_ punish _me_.”

“Oh no… Jongin… Is he alright?”

“He?!” Jongin exclaims, turning around to look at her with rounded eyes.

“Yes, _he_! Where is he now?” she asks, visibly alarmed.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Jongin, he could be executed!”

The sardonic chuckle exits his lips before he even knows it.

“No, he won’t be.”

“The state of your back proves otherwise,” Seohyun says in a scolding tone. “If our father is willing to get his own _son_ tortured, it clearly means that-”

“He didn’t,” Jongin interrupts her sternly, locking their eyes.

“What?”

“I wasn’t his son, at that moment.”

“Wh-what?” she asks again, looking entirely confused.

With a sigh, Jongin turns around, his back facing her again.

“He didn’t punish his son…” he says. “He taught a lesson to the _Crown Prince_.”

“What are you even talking about? They’re both _you_.”

“Not for him.”

“You know what? Nevermind. It doesn’t change anything,” Seohyun says, grabbing his shoulder to make him face her again. “You know what he thinks about Kyungsoo. Don’t you understand? If he got him punished already and then did this to you, can you imagine what he could-”

“No, _you_ don’t understand.”

“Wh-”

“He can’t get him executed.”

“Why not?” his sister asks, crossing her arms as she gives him a condescending look.

“Because the moment I refused to hit Kyungsoo, I gave our father leverage,” Jongin snaps in a loud voice, ignoring the pain shooting through his back as he gets on his knees to properly turn around. “The moment I refused, I showed him I cared. I showed him I was weak.”

Seohyun blinks at him, realization gradually flickering in her eyes.

“The moment I refused, I proved that no matter how betrayed I felt, I was still ready to protect him, even if it meant disrespecting the King himself.”

_It would appear I made a mistake._

Biting her lips, Seohyun stares at him, seeming to now fully grasp what he means.

“He won’t do anything to him,” she starts, earning a small nod. “Unless you step out of line,” she adds, and he nods again. “He is going to use that against you…”

“Yes.”

“Wh- What are you going to do then?”

Her voice is barely above a whisper as she reaches out and slips her fingers against his palm.

Jongin takes a deep breath, then slowly exhales, closing his hand around hers. And when he replies, the simple word tastes almost as bitter as Kyungsoo’s betrayal.

“Obey.”

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

He has no idea who informed her, but Jongin is not even surprised, the next afternoon, when Hoseong tells him Princess Eunha is right outside the door, waiting to be allowed in.

So, after taking a few seconds to compose himself and put his façade in place, he nods to the eunuch.

She looks like a flower again. A cherry blossom, all dressed in pale shades of pink. He cannot take that away from her; she _is_ beautiful. The kind of girl men would go stupid, or crazy about. The kind of fiancée no one would reject.

“This is for you,” she says as she takes place on the other side of the low table and places a vial in front of him. “I took the liberty of asking your Royal Physician to brew it. It’s a decoction that will help your skin regenerate quicker. We use it often in Sinjae.”

“Thank you,” Jongin replies, tightening the muscles in his cheeks to stretch his lips into a smile. “This is very thoughtful of you.”

It must be convincing enough, judging by the way she grins back, her round cheeks plumping up.

“I’m glad you accepted to see me. I was worried,” she says, actually sounding genuine.

“I apologize for causing you concern,” Jongin replies, feeling like a hand puppet someone else would make talk. “I hope that to see me will alleviate some of it.”

“It does. How are you feeling?”

“I’m all right. I’ll soon be able to carry on my duties.”

“That’s a relief,” she says, still softly smiling at him.

“But how are _you_?” he then asks, forcing the words out of his mouth. “Are you adjusting well at the palace?”

“Yangkwang is really different, I must admit. But everyone has been nothing but kind to me. I’m really grateful.”

“Good.”

“My quarters are beautifully decorated,” she continues, looking delighted. “His Majesty was truly sorry he didn’t have the time to prepare a room for me. So, he let me reside in one of the consorts’ quarters.”

Feeling his brows twitch, Jongin slowly breathes in and out, already predicting what she is about to say.

“Lady Somin was her name, I believe? I was told she passed away long ago.”

“She did. Seven years ago.”

“Oh? Did you know her well?” she asks, seeming pleasantly surprised.

“She was my mother.”

With a gasp, her hand flies in front of her mouth, and Jongin curses himself for his lack of tact.

“Oh... I didn’t…”

“It’s all right,” he quickly says, making sure to use a reassuring tone despite the words burning his throat.

“Had I known, I would have never accepted!”

Seeing her looking so distressed, he forces the corner of his lips to curl up again.

“Don’t trouble yourself,” he softly tells her.

_You will obey, son._

“Besides, you will be moving here with me soon enough.”

The shade blooming on her cheeks matches her clothes. It’s pretty, Jongin supposes. No matter how mature she sounds, sometimes, she remains young; a teenager, really.

“About that…” she says, looking timid, almost nervous.

“Yes?”

“I had a question.”

Locking his smile in place, Jongin nods encouragingly.

“I… I noticed the crocus flowerbeds in the gardens,” she says, and it takes all his willpower not to let his lips twitch. “They’re lovely.”

“They are,” he replies as gently as he can.

“I was wondering…”

“Yes?”

“Could we...use them? For our wedding. We could place them on the tables, in the Banquet Hall. It would make it livelier.”

His fists are clenched on his lap, out of her line of sight, but his discomfort must show on his face because she instantly turns from sheepish to alarmed again.

“I mean, unless you-”

“Of course,” he blurts out, before pausing to secure his smile back on. “If you like them, we should use them.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he nods. “You should decorate the room as you please.”

“Thank you.”

The silence settling then is odd. Neither uncomfortable nor tense, yet not entirely peaceful. It takes the Princess’ next words for Jongin to understand why.

How could it be tranquil when it’s filled with the echoes of their lies?

“I have to admit, I didn’t think you would give in so easily.”

“Give in?”

“Not that I’m complaining, of course,” she shrugs, now both looking and sounding a lot less innocent. “But you did not exactly seem inclined to agree with all this in the past.”

“You had convincing arguments.”

“I highly doubt this has anything to do with me.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning it wasn’t hard for me to piece things together,” she states in a confident tone. “I told you I tend to...easily hear things that are supposed to remain private. People are a lot less cautious than they should. You included,” she ends with an amused smirk, earning a disbelieving scoff from Jongin.

“Right.”

“Where is he?” she then nonchalantly asks, vaguely looking around.

“I don’t know,” Jongin replies.

This, at least, is not a lie. He hasn’t seen Kyungsoo since he dismissed him the previous morning. He hasn’t asked about him either, so, as an afterthought, he adds:

“And I don’t care.”

It’s Eunha’s turn to scoff, before she raises a brow at him, skepticism written all over her face.

“Really?

“Really. He fooled me. He gained my trust, and waited for me to show weakness to betray me.”

“Would you not have done the same in his place?” she questions, proving that she does know more than she should. “He merely tried to help them.”

“I wouldn’t have,” Jongin retorts, grinding his teeth. “I know how to follow orders and respect the King.”

“Is it not your disrespect for His Majesty that led you in this situation?”

“Why do you care?” he snaps, annoyed not to find any valid answer to give her.

He also doesn’t bother asking how she is even aware of what happened. Eavesdropping is clearly one of her talents.

“I don’t,” she chuckles, surprising him. “But if we are to spend the rest of our lives together, I think it would be best to be honest with each other. I can humor you if you want to pretend you don’t care about him,” she adds with a shrug. “Although, lying to yourself will only-”

Startled by the knocks on the front doors, Eunha turns around, cutting her sentence short and leaving Jongin frustrated. He has half in mind to ignore whoever interrupted them and ask her to finish what she was saying, but he finds himself looking up when the doors open, ready to berate the intruder for entering without his permission.

The words die on his lips when his eyes land on them, and he finds himself up on his feet before he even realizes what he is doing. He doesn’t even see the Princess anymore, nor feel his wounds tear apart by the sudden movement.

His attention is entirely focused on the snow leopard standing on the threshold.

He looks tired, drawn features and dark shadows underlining his pale, yet slightly red eyes. He is also completely drenched, making Jongin realize it started pouring again.

He hates himself for letting his eyes roam down his body, frantically looking for any sign of new injuries. There are none, of course, but his own concern revives the flame of resentment inside his chest.

“What do you want?” he spits, breaths turning heavy.

Kyungsoo seems hesitant, briefly glancing at his joined hands, before looking back at him and tentatively taking a step in.

“I have something for you,” he says, his voice hoarser than usual.

The spark of worry flashing through his veins has Jongin gritting his teeth. When he doesn’t reply, however, Kyungsoo takes another step forward, then two more. He keeps heading his way, rounding the low table until he stands a meter away from the Crown Prince.

When his hand reaches out, Jongin sees a small jar in his palm.

“It’s an ointment my father makes. He uses it on our people when we get hurt,” he says, seemingly having a hard time not looking away from Jongin’s intense stare. “I managed to get the ingredients this morning, and I-”

“I don’t want it.”

“It’ll prevent the wounds from getting infected,” the hybrid continues as if he hadn’t heard him. “And from leaving scars.”

“Why?” Jongin loudly scoffs, making the feline flinch, ears twitching. “So that you don’t have to be reminded of what you’ve done when you see them?”

“That’s not-”

“Don’t try to salve your conscience,” Jongin cuts him, lightly shaking his head.

“It’s-”

“I said I don’t want it!”

As he shouts, he suddenly grabs the jar from Kyungsoo’s hand, his nails accidentally scraping the hybrid’s palm. The next moment, the ceramic pot has exploded on the ground, spattering a greenish paste on the wooden floor that instantly exudes a strong smell of plants.

Visibly startled, Kyungsoo looks back at him with widened eyes. Then, in a snap, his expression changes. Narrowed glare and clenching jaw, a growl vibrating at the back of his throat.

“Fine! Keep hurting!” he yells just as loudly. “See if I care!”

Whirling around, soaked hair sending droplets flying everywhere, the hybrid starts heading for the doors, before stilling when Jongin’s voice reaches his ears.

“I had taken care of it!” the Crown Prince exclaims, despising the tremor in his voice. “She wouldn’t have hurt them any more!”

The fire is still burning in his pale eyes when Kyungsoo turns back to face him.

“You tried to help them, and you only make it worse. They got hurt. _You_ got hurt! And I…”

Eyes burning, Jongin gulps down, shaking his head as he breathes heavily.

“I trusted you…” he says, vision becoming blurry. “Why couldn’t you trust me too?”

The crack in his voice sounds pathetic even to his own ears.

_I told you to tame it. Not to befriend it._

He watches Kyungsoo lower his eyes to the ground, his chest jerking with each breath.

Silence replies on his behalf.

 _You will obey_.

“Guard.”

It takes only a few seconds for Taeil to come in, barely enough time for Kyungsoo to flicker confused eyes at him.

“Your Highness?”

“Put him in a cell. Make sure he doesn’t get out.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

 

Jongin is not sure how long he remains standing still, eyes cast on the closed doors and the image of Kyungsoo’s resigned face as he was escorted out looping in his mind. Too long, probably, judging by the way he startles when Eunha places her hand on his shoulder. He had forgotten she was even there.

“Like I was saying,” she starts in a gentle tone. “Lying to yourself will only hurt you both.”

“Acknowledging it wouldn’t lead me anywhere,” he replies, willing his voice to remain steady. “I can’t afford to care.”

“No, you can’t,” she says, and Jongin turns his head to look at her with a confused frown. “But sometimes, admitting it to yourself is all you have.”

There is something in the way she smiles. Something sad that he has never seen on her before. He doesn’t ask, though, unsure about stepping over that line and prying too much, despite all she seems to know about him.

In the end, he opts for a small nod and politely bids her good night when she eventually excuses herself.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

It seems like everyone thinks Jongin is completely stupid and dense.

This is the only explanation he can come up with when Changwook steps into his living quarters the next morning and tells him he came to make sure he was recovering well from his flu.

But the way he keeps glancing at his shoulder as he controls his pulse is anything but subtle. And if Eunha found out what happened, it wouldn’t be surprising for a man working for the Royal Physician to be aware of it as well.

Which is why, when the apprentice nonchalantly requests for him to untie his gonryongpo, Jongin can only roll his eyes.

“Who told you?” he asks, complying nonetheless and scoffing when Changwook’s face turns sheepish.

“Her Highness,” the apprentice replies with a shy smile.

“Princess Eunha?!” Jongin exclaims, brows flying up for a second, before frowning when Changwook shakes his head. “Oh… Noonim.”

“Your sister can be rather...persistent,” the man says with a little laugh.

“Stubbornness runs in our blood,” Jongin replies with another scoff.

“Indeed…”

The cryptic little smirk makes Jongin snorts, realizing the apprentice must have met Yeonjoo as well. Even Jongdae is the same, with that weird determination to remain optimistic under all circumstances. They could all try to deny it, it still remains something they inherited from the King, who, from what Jongin knows, seems to have taken it from his own father.

“Is your apprenticeship going well?” he asks, mostly for the sake of not letting the silence settle for too long as Changwook starts cleaning his wounds.

“Better than I hoped,” the man replies, sounding genuinely enthusiastic. “I learned so much more in the last few months than I did in twenty-seven years.”

“Twenty-seven?” Jongin exclaims, eyes opening wide even though Changwook can’t see them. “You look much younger.”

“So I’ve been told, yes,” the man chuckles, carefully dabbing something on the wounds and earning a wince. “I inherited my mother’s traits, including her youthful look.”

Hearing his tone waver at the end of his sentence, Jongin feels bad. He is trying to find something to say to direct the conversation away from the man’s sad memories when a potent smell reaches his nose.

Body tensing, he twists his torso to look over his shoulder, swallowing the hiss of pain when the movement cracks the scab layer that formed on some parts of his back. When his eyes land on the small jar Changwook has just opened, the words come out on their own.

“Where did you get that?”

The elder looks embarrassed, gaze shifting between Jongin’s face and the greenish paste a few times.

“Your Highness’ hybrid came to find me, the day before yesterday,” he replies slowly as if he were afraid of the Crown Prince’s reaction.

Jongin frowns at the oddity of that answer. He can clearly recall how Kyungsoo always stayed as far from the apprentice as the room allowed. He even said himself he did _not_ want to go anywhere near the man, so Jongin is struggling to picture him willingly seeking the apprentice.

“Why?”

“He asked me if could travel to the market held in Cheokgil, yesterday morning, and bring him back some ingredients” Changwook explains, still looking like he is choosing his words with extreme caution. “He remembered I come from a village up north, and thought I would be able to recognize the plants he needed for an ointment he wanted to make.”

As his frown deepens, Jongin tries to remember what Kyungsoo had said the previous day.

“ _I managed to get the ingredients this morning._ ”

Had he really asked Changwook to get them for him?

“Most of them grow in the Wild North, near the mountains,” the apprentice continues. “But he could recall seeing them at the market. I agreed, in exchange for him teaching me how to prepare that ointment.”

Jongin nods distractingly, more pieces of memory flashing in the back of his mind.

“ _He is our healer,_ ” Kyungsoo had said, talking about his father. “ _He taught me a lot._ ”

“ _It’s an ointment my father makes. He uses it on our people when we get hurt._ ”

Had he used his knowledge to make this for Jongin?

No.

Chances are he only made it for himself and decided to give what was left to Jongin, out of unsolicited guilt.

“I saw the guards taking him away, last night,” Changwook adds, looking contrite when Jongin eyes him. “Then, your sister visited me and briefly explained what happened, asking me to examine your back. That’s when I understood the salve was for Your Highness. He had left me some of it after filling his own jar, so I thought…”

Heart panging, Jongin stares at the paste, its strong smell prickling his nose.

None of this makes sense.

His confusion must resemble anger, however, because when Changwook speaks again, he sounds anxious.

“Did I overstep a line?” he asks, eyes full of worry when Jongin looks into them.

“No, it’s...it’s alright,” Jongin replies, offering a small smile to reassure him before sitting back in his initial position to let the apprentice resume his task.

The ointment burns when first applied, and Jongin has to choke back a grunt, eyes squeezed shut. But then, it starts spreading a cold sensation, joined by a weird tingly feeling, not really painful, but far from pleasant. It makes him shiver in awkward discomfort, goosebumps rising along his arms.

“The bond between a hybrid and their master can be quite strong,” Changwook says after a moment, as he applies the salve toward his lower back.

As weird as the statement is, Jongin’s first urge is to correct him, to tell him that he is not Kyungsoo’s master. Yet, his father’s ever-constant voice echoing in his mind compels him to nod.

 _Tame it_.

“Do you have a hybrid?” he asks nonetheless, remembering just why Kyungsoo refused to be in the man’s vicinity.

“Wh- what?”

“It’s just, Kyungsoo told me he could smell that you had been...marked by a hybrid.”

The digit pressed against his skin stop moving just as he hears the man’s breathing hitch. He should have worded it differently. Now Changwook must be worried that he, or worse, his hybrid might get in trouble.

“He couldn’t tell what they were,” he quickly adds, hoping to reassure him that no one had investigated the matter. “He was just able to smell their scent on you.

“I… I did.”

“Were they a lover?” Jongin asks before he realizes it, and not even knowing where the question is coming from.

“Your Highness?”

Great. Now he definitely sounds frightened.

“It’s all right. You don’t have to tell me,” he hastily backtracks, mentally cursing himself for not _thinking_ before he speaks. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s… We…” he stutters, seemingly looking for the right words. “We parted ways. She...missed her family. And I couldn’t bear to see her so sad,” he slowly explains. “So...I let her go.”

Jongin doesn’t like the way his guts jolt as he processes what he has just been told. It reminds him a little too much of the kind of thoughts haunting his mind whenever sleep evades him.

Breathing in deeply, he nods, trying to blink away the made-up images of pale skin getting dirtied in a dark cell, and once again, the question comes out before the thought has fully formed in his head.

“Do you regret it?”

“No,” Changwook answers in a confident, yet saddened tone. “I miss her a lot, but...I didn’t want to be selfish anymore.”

Another nod and Jongin looks over his shoulder, trying to smile back. It lacks resolve, he can feel it, but he is not sure he can truly be genuine at this moment.

But before he can find something to say, frantic knocks on the door make them both startle, and his head whips ahead, giving the person permission to come in right away.

His eyebrows fly up when he sees the sheer panic soaking Hoseong’s features, instantly putting him on edge.

“What is it?”

“His Majesty collapsed,” the eunuch says between short breaths. “He is not waking up.”


	10. Chapter 10

If Jongin thought the tasks he had been given by his father were keeping him busy, it was _nothing_ compared to what he has been going through for the past four days. He has already stopped counting the hours of sleep he lost, reading through endless documents, or how many meetings he has had to attend, surrounded by ministers and bureaucrats.

_Regent_. This is how they all started referring to him.

“Until His Majesty recovers,” Minister Park had said.

Jongin merely nodded, but he had heard what the old man kept silent. He had seen it on all their faces.

Until the King recovers... _if_ he ever does.

At that time, the odds did not seem to be in the Monarch’s favor. It had only taken Jongin a few minutes to race across the palace grounds and storm in his father’s bedroom, Changwook and Hoseong on his heels.

Pallid skin and shivers running through his entire body, the King looked barely alive. His breaths were shallow, despite the rapid throbbing of the vein on his neck, coming out of his blueish, cracked lips with a faint whistling sound.

Jongdae and Seohyun had arrived soon after, but by then, Jongin had already been guided to the Throne Hall, where the six ministers were awaiting him. In a daze, he had tuned out most of their panicked exchange, until a specific sentence had made him snap back to reality.

“What do you mean _take his place_?” he had exclaimed, wagging between confusion and anger. “Show some respect. Your King is not dead.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” the old Minister had hastily replied with a deep bow.

“The kingdom cannot remain without someone to govern,” another one had said.

“His Majesty is, for the time being, in the incapacity of assuming this role.”

“You must take on his responsibilities.”

By then, Jongin wasn’t even sure who was addressing him, and when they all started chaotically talking among themselves, he had closed his eyes and shut off all sounds around him, focusing on the erratic whoosh of his blood against his eardrums.

This couldn’t be real. He didn’t want it to be. He wasn’t ready.

Yet, four days later, he has had to come to term with it. This is all very much real, and no amount of denying will drown the terror coursing in his veins. Especially not after the conversation he had with Changwook a few hours ago.

With a contrite face, the apprentice had confessed hearing from the Royal Physician that the King had been sick for a while, making everyone who knew swear to keep it a secret. This was apparently why he had so easily welcomed Changwook at their service; with his knowledge of modern medicine, they hoped he could find a way to cure what the Physician’s remedies failed to treat. It had seemed to work for a while, but it soon became evident it wouldn’t last. From then on, it had only been a matter of hiding how serious it was, filling the King up with way too many strong medicines to get him through the days on his two feet.

It had taken Jongin long minutes to process all this. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed _anything_. But then, slowly, he had started to piece things together.

This was the reason his father had increased the number of responsibilities his son was given.

This was why Eunha was here. Yangkwang people always demand a crown prince to wed before he becomes king.

And even now, as he lies on his futon, unable to fall asleep despite the soft pitter-patter of the rain on the rooftop, he cannot help but chastise himself. He has been so busy feeling sorry about himself, that his self-indulgence prevented him from seeing what was right under his nose. And now that the illusion has been broken, he is left feeling painfully empty, in a never-ending freefall that he can’t stop.

He lost his father’s guidance, the only one who truly knows what it entails to sit on that throne. And it scares him, now that he has no one left to help him navigate the dark waters he will soon sink into.

When sleep finally pulls him under, hours later, Jongin is still absurdly hoping someone would reach out and save him. But even in his dreams, he remains alone.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

The downpour is strong, the next morning, as he exits the King’s living quarters.

His father woke up, earlier that day, and although Jongin had momentarily allowed himself to rejoice when he was given the news, his mood quickly plummeted as soon as he knelt by the King’s side.

His eyes were open, and his chest was moving, but that was about all the signs proving he was still alive. He did seem to recognize Jongin, however, judging by the way he weakly clenched the hand his son had taken in his own. Nothing much had happened after that, and Jongin had ended up leaving when Seohyun arrived, feeling even worse than he did before. Not even his sister’s brief embrace had been able to alleviate the claws constricting his chest.

Hoseong is telling him Minister Im requested to see him, explaining it has something to do with hiring laborers for the maintenance of the roads in the countryside, when a glimpse of silver catches Jongin’s eyes. Halting his steps so fast the eunuch ends up bumping into his healing back, he doesn’t even register the pain, too focused on scanning the swarm of domestics coming and going in the inner court.

He knows what he just saw, but it doesn’t make any sense. Kyungsoo is supposed to be locked down in a cell. He gave clear orders; no one would have let him out without the Crown Prince’s permission. And had he managed to escape, the hybrid would surely be far away by now, not roaming the palace grounds.

“Excuse me?”

This time, Jongin does wince after whirling around. Yet, his entire body freezes the second his eyes land on the person standing in front of him.

Pale skin lined with dark ink, rounded ears peeking through silver hair, matching a long tail, and black-rimmed iridescent eyes, the slightly shorter hybrid is staring at him, patiently waiting for Jongin to be done scanning him. And although the resemblance ends there, it is not any less baffling.

“Who are you?” Jongin breathes, feeling like he was just thrown in a strange alternate version of reality.

“I am looking for someone.”

Even the curious accent quirking his consonants is the same as he speaks, albeit free from syntax errors.

He hasn’t answered Jongin’s question, though.

“Who are you? What’s your name?”

Wrong move, he decides when the snow leopard gives him a series of unpronounceable syllables. It must show on his face, or perhaps in the way he sighs because soon, the hybrid is speaking in Korean again.

“Your people usually call me Suho,” he says, and Jongin recognizes it as a much, _much_ shorter version of the name he previously gave him.

“Guardian?” he asks, brows rising when the hybrid nods. “Wh- why are you here?” he continues, briefly looking around when he notices some people staring at them curiously.

“I am looking for someone,” the hybrid repeats, seemingly unbothered by the attention. “One of my people was brought here, months ago. Would you know where I can find him?”

The lurch in his guts is anything but pleasant, but he is secretly glad that so many people are around. If he came to get Kyungsoo out of here, he might not be too merciful when he finds out he is talking to the man his friend is supposed to belong to, at least in everyone’s eyes. Perhaps it would actually be best not to let him know about that small detail. Or about the fact that he got Kyungsoo locked in a cell.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Jongin replies in the most confident tone he can muster.

“There is no need to lie.”

“I’m not.”

“You smell like him,” the hybrid instantly counters, voice calm and expression composed.

“Wh- what?”

“I need to talk to him,” the hybrid, _Suho_ , continues, ignoring his widened eyes. “It’s quite urgent.”

“Well, you… You can’t.”

“Why not? Is he all right? Did something happen to him? Where is he?”

The questions, fired in one breath in an alarmed tone, somewhat remind Jongin of Hoseong, who still stands awkwardly by his side.

He is not exactly inclined to reply, however. He has no idea who that hybrid really is; he can’t possibly know how he will react. The calm composure could be a mere facade. But he is also not sure what could happen if he _doesn’t_ answer.

“What do you want to tell him?” Jongin asks, trying to stir away from the topic for the time being, just as a safety measure.

For a moment, the hybrid seems to be assessing him, visibly considering if he should explain or not.

“Could we speak somewhere else?” he eventually says, glancing around with a frown.

It might not be the best idea, but Jongin still nods, ignoring Hoseong whispered call, and gestures at the snow leopard to follow.

“His family is in trouble,” Suho says in a tense voice after they stopped in a narrow alley near the Banquet Hall. “His mother is the leader of our tribe,” he continues when Jongin nods at him to keep going. “But there has been some...disagreements amongst our people. Coming from one woman, specifically. It has been going on for a while now, but the situation broke down recently.”

“What happened?”

“She tried to pit some of our people against our leader,” the hybrid sighs, a deep crease between his brows. “And she succeeded. She got many of them to support her, and then she attempted to take over. She completely divided the tribe in two.”

“What does that have anything to do with Kyungsoo?” Hoseong suddenly intervenes, earning a wide-eyed look from Jongin and a confused one from Suho.

“Kyungsoo?” the hybrid asks. “Who-...” he utters, interrupting himself to raise a brow toward Jongin, realization flickering in his pale eyes. “Did you give him another _name_?”

Clearing his throat to hide his embarrassment, Jongin nods.

“Yes. And no, he didn’t appreciate,” Jongin adds when Suho scoffs at him, shaking his head.

“Of course he didn’t,” the hybrid says, rolling his eyes, before glancing at Hoseong. “Fine… _Kyungsoo_ ’s older sister was supposed to become our leader, one day,” he adds, apparently deciding to reply to the eunuch’s question. “Their mother prepared her for it since she was young. But something happened during a hunt, last fall. There was no real evidence on her body to prove who did that, but…”

“That woman?” Jongin asks, earning a sharp nod.

“Or one of her supporters,” he says. “This was way too convenient to be a simple accident. We couldn’t accuse anyone, at that time, though. But then, we found out _Kyungsoo_ had been taken, and when he didn’t come back... Well, that’s when she stepped forward and started gathering people around her.”

“How did you find out?” Jongin inquires in a voice sounding timid even to his own ears. “About him. How did you know he was here?”

“He was hunting with one of our friends, that day. Only one of them returned. He… He barely managed to tell us what happened before…”

Almost instantly, Jongin hears his father’s voice in the back of his mind.

“ _I had to pierce it with many arrows to bring it down. It probably didn’t survive._ ”

He didn’t, indeed.

“ _Kyungsoo_ ’s family needs him,” Suho continues. “His mother needs him. That other woman, she is trying to convince our people that, if our leader can’t even keep her own children safe, she can’t possibly protect an entire tribe.”

As terrible as it is, Jongin can’t help but praise that woman. Such an argument is nearly impossible to counter, considering the circumstances. She knows exactly what she is doing.

“Plus, he is one of our better hunters,” Suho adds, his tone hardening. “If it comes down to it...we will need him to fight.”

At the last words, Jongin suddenly finds himself having difficulties in breathing. The air turns heavy, struggling to pass through the lump in his throat, and into his clamping lungs. Trying to blink away the made-up images of Kyungsoo’s body clashing against a faceless figure in a chaos of snarls, he opens his mouth to talk.

But nothing comes out, and he is left with a racing heartbeat, blood whooshing against his ears as he bites the inside of his cheek.

“That’s why I have to talk to him,” Suho says, staring right in his eyes. “So, could you _please_ tell me where I can find him?”

“I-... He-...” Jongin starts, voice pathetically breaking.

“He has been imprisoned,” Hoseong intervenes yet again, surprising Jongin.

“What? Why?”

And before Jongin can even think of a way to word it, Hoseong once again replies on his behalf.

“He misbehaved.”

Somehow, this is both an understatement and an exaggeration, but considering the situation, Jongin realizes it’s probably the best way to explain. The safest, as well. After all, even if the meaning of the hybrid’s name implies he is not considered as a fighter, Jongin doesn’t want to find out how skilled he is in combat by telling him what really happened to Kyungsoo down in that room.

“I _have to_ see him,” Suho insists, tone stern enough to prove the Crown Prince right.

Taking a few seconds to assess his options, Jongin glances at Hoseong, whose eyes are already on him, a slight frown creasing his forehead. Ever so slightly, the eunuch shakes his head, silently telling him what Jongin already knows.

Letting Suho see Kyungsoo will be pointless. Even if he tells him everything, Kyungsoo will be left worried and unable to help.

Hoseong knows just as much as Jongin does. He can’t let the snow leopard out of that cell. Not with all the ministers and bureaucrats breathing down his neck, expecting from him to asserts his authority as regent. Somehow, they all discovered what had taken place in the military building, and if he were to release Kyungsoo now, let alone allow him to leave the palace, it would only confirm the reservations they not so subtly expressed concerning his ability to govern.

This is not something he can afford. He realized it at the end of a meeting, days ago. He was still in a strange panicked daze, trying to process all the information that had been thrown at him, and the urge to talk to someone was clutching his chest. His mind had decided to betray him, providing a blurred image of Kyungsoo, knelt in front of him as he sobbed, talking about his mother. Unconsciously, his steps had started leading him toward the security building, only to be stopped when he noticed Minister Lee exiting said structure. In charge of the administration of laws, slavery, and punishment, the old man had sent him one of the coldest looks Jongin had ever received. The silent message was clear enough to make him freeze on the spot, and he had ended up turning around after a moment, eventually returning to his living quarters.

After that, caught in the chaos created by his father’s absence, Jongin has barely had time to think about anything other than state matters. But every night as he headed to bed, his eyes involuntarily glided toward the end of the hallway, easily finding Kyungsoo’s bedroom door. And every time, he felt his heart painfully clench, ashamed to realize that most of the time, he completely forgot Kyungsoo used to be around, or why he wasn’t anymore.

He made a mistake that he still doesn’t know how to fix. But as much as the guilt is plaguing him, he does know that he owns an explanation to the hybrid standing in front of him. He deserves to know why Kyungsoo _cannot_ leave with him.

Yet, under the intense stare of those pale eyes looking way too familiar, Jongin finds himself numbly nodding, and before he knows it, he is already heading over to the military building, Suho and Hoseong on his heels.

The air grows damper as they climb down the stairs leading to the cells. Legs shaking, Jongin freezes on the last step, left foot momentarily hovering in the air before he slowly brings it back on the wooden plank. He feels the hybrid stops right behind him just as he meets the eyes of the guard posted at the beginning of the corridor.

“Your Highness,” the man says with a bow that seems somewhat different than the usual he is given.

He has been experiencing this since the moment he was appointed as regent. People started being both more critical, yet more respectful. It’s an odd combination Jongin is not certain what to make of.

“Can I help you?” the guard asks after straightening back up.

Jongin wants to shake his head. He wants to dismiss him. He wants to get down that stupid last step and rush along the hallway. He wants to see if Kyungsoo is all right.

But his body feels paralyzed. He doesn’t think he deserves to see the snow leopard. So, with a shaky exhale, he lightly steps aside, coming closer to the stone wall to reveal the hybrid behind him. The guard’s eyes widen, but with the look Jongin sends him, he knows better than to say anything.

“He just wants to talk to him,” he says, voice strained. “Show him in.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” the guard says with another bow, before glancing at Suho and giving him a slight nod as he gestures toward the corridor. “This way.”

“Make it quick,” Jongin whispers to the hybrid when he comes down past him. “I’ll wait outside.”

And he meant it. He even started climbing the stairs back up. But the second Kyungsoo’s voice reaches his ears, his entire body turns to stone, and he finds himself unable to take another step forward.

Even worse, he feels himself stepping _back_ , foot clumsily touching the lower plank as Hoseong looks at him with rounded eyes. Before he knows it, he is peeking around the corner, gaze landing on Suho’s figure standing a few meters away. The wooden bars are hiding Kyungsoo from his sight, but he can hear the chains moving.

The guard has walked away a bit further, maybe to give them some privacy. It’s useless, though; the words echoing in the hallway are foreign, not something he could understand even if he stood right next to the two snow leopards.

When Jongin leans forward a bit more, his foot scratches the dirt on the ground, and he frantically hides behind the wall when he sees Suho’s ears twitch. He should go, wait outside like he said he would. But after waiting for a few seconds, until he hears the newcomer start speaking again, he is back peeping.

Although the pang in his chest flashing pain toward his fingertips is familiar, the ache spreading throughout his body as Kyungsoo speaks is something entirely new. Both numbing and searing, it makes him want to scream, yet locks the sound right at the back of his throat. His eyes are burning, his lips, trembling, his heartbeat, racing, and his ears, whistling.

There is a weight in the pit of his stomach, like a heavy piece of incandescent coal scorching his insides, bursting into flames when he sees Suho reach between the bars to touch Kyungsoo’s face, filling his lungs with thick smoke the more alarmed the locked hybrid’s voice grows.

He thinks he hears his own name a few times, the foreign accent quirking the two syllables, but through the loud ringing, he can’t be sure whose voice pronounces it.

Jongin feels himself harshly snap back to reality when, with a final nod, Suho steps away from the bars. He trips as he swivels around, catching himself at the last second on the staircase handrail before he dashes up, almost bumping into a startled Hoseong at the top of the stairs.

He is panting when he makes it out of the building, having to pretend everything is all right when he sees the curious looks some domestics passing by are sending him. He has managed to compose himself when Suho eventually steps outside, serious expression matching his confident gait.

As soon as he meets the hybrid’s accusing eyes, Jongin averts his gaze, biting the inside of his cheek. Suho doesn’t say anything, however, and after a full minute of silence, it becomes clear he won’t start the conversation. So, with a sigh, Jongin tentatively opens his mouth.

“Is he… Is he all right?”

Wrong move, judging by the disdain dripping from the snow leopard’s scoff. But Jongin guesses it answers the question, anyway.

“He told me you would want to know,” Suho says, earning a wide-eyes look.

“A-and?”

“And after what I just heard, I don’t think you get to ask this, let alone deserve an answer.”

Not that he expected a smile or some kind words, but the harsh reply still feels like a slap, and he looks away once again.

“Look,” he starts, pausing to subtly clear his throat. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I… I _can’t_ let him leave with you. It would-”

“I know,” the hybrid firmly interrupts him, earning yet another surprised look. “I heard things, earlier. When I was looking for him,” he explains, eyes wandering around. “And after what he told me, I _do_ understand.”

“Oh…”

“But _you_ have to understand that I can’t leave _without_ him. I didn’t travel for days to go back alone. Not now that I know he is alive.”

The last part is pronounced in a softer voice, and Jongin feels his insides churn. Of course, Kyungsoo’s people couldn’t have possibly known he was alive. Heart lurching in his throat, he tries to will away the wave of nausea hitting him at the thought of being away from Kyungsoo, not knowing if he was safe. He doesn’t think he could handle it without going insane.

Just like he told Kyungsoo long ago, Jongin wants to tell Suho that he wouldn’t have let anything happen to him, but standing there, so close to the palace prison, with the sound of those chains still echoing in his mind, he cannot let himself utter the words.

Before he knows it, he is apologizing in a breath, eyes stinging as he lowers his head.

The silence between them, only disturbed by the quiet chattering of two stable boys passing by, lasts long enough for him to blink away the tears, and he glances up when he hears Suho let out a deep sigh. The hybrid looks conflicted, a faint crease between his brows as he stares at the Crown Prince.

“You know, he told me not to be-”

“Your Highness!”

For the umpteenth time since Suho showed up, Hoseong decides to intervene. This time, however, his voice, albeit just a whisper, is alarmed, much closer to what Jongin is used to coming from him, and matching the panic in his eyes when Jongin turns toward him.

“Minister Im is heading this way,” the eunuch says, looking at a spot behind the Crown Prince.

It only takes a second for his mind to process the words, and the next one, he has already grabbed Suho’s elbow, forcing him to turn away and pushing him forward, making sure to keep his body between the Minister’s line of sight and the feline.

“Start walking,” he says, doing so himself right behind the hybrid. “I can’t let him see you.”

For some reason, Suho doesn’t protest and silently complies, only glancing back once to wordlessly ask where he is supposed to go.

They take the exact same path Taeil and Sehun used to bring him back to his living quarters, and although he is sure the Minister hasn’t followed them, Jongin still sighs in relief when Hoseong closes the doors after them, staying outside as a safety measure.

Now alone with the hybrid, Jongin clears his throat looking around at everything but him.

“Where are we?” Suho asks, walking further into the main room.

“My quarters,” Jongin replies, stealing a glance toward the snow leopard. “And Kyungsoo’s,” he adds in a quieter voice.

The effect is immediate. Swiftly turning around, Suho’s expression is one of surprise. When he doesn’t say anything, however, Jongin decides to continue.

“He was supposed to stay with me, so I thought that giving him his own room would help to get him to...trust me. Or at least, hate me a little less.”

“Did it work?” Suho asks, raising a brow.

“Not really,” Jongin admits with a dejected chuckle, assuming Kyungsoo hadn’t mentioned anything about all this when they talked. “I only made the situation worse. I doubt he ever thought highly of me… But he pretended well,” he adds with a sad smile. “I really believed he trusted me. I thought...”

With a weak scoff, Jongin shakes his head, before letting out a deep sigh.

He had been so stupid to think Kyungsoo could ever remotely feel the way he felt about him, so foolish to let himself hope, despite denying it out loud when Jongdae or Eunha had mentioned it.

He might have claimed the betrayal is what had angered him, but ultimately, Jongin couldn’t care less about Kyungsoo breaking his trust and using it to his advantage. The wounds on his back will heal. But he knows the one in his heart will carve a bigger scar than any cane could ever leave on his skin.

Because in the end, realizing Kyungsoo never trusted _him_ had broken that silly illusion his mind had made up, leaving him empty and lost.

So much for that stupid wish he made at the lanterns festival.

Oddly, Suho does look confused as well when Jongin glances at him. He is looking at the Crown Prince with his head slightly tilted, furrowed brows and squinted eyes as if he were silently pondering over an intricate problem.

When he hears the hybrid mumble a few words in the tribe’s language, his eyes narrowing even further, Jongin looks away, uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny.

“Come with me,” he says, nudging his head to the side before heading for the hallway.

In front of Kyungsoo’s bedroom door, Jongin hesitates, hand hovering in the air as he remembers the last time he stood there, before he eventually slides it open and steps aside.

“That’s his room. You can stay here for now, until sundown. No one will come. After that…”

“I told you. I’m _not_ leaving without him,” the hybrid counters, understanding what he implied.

“And I told you I _can’t_ let him leave,” Jongin retorts in the same snappy tone.

“Then what?” Suho loudly spits, making him flinch. “For how long do you plan on letting him languish in that cell? Had your sister not gone and cleaned his back, he would’ve fallen sick already!”

Once more, the words feel like a slap. Biting the inside of his cheek, Jongin averts his eyes and takes a deep breath before slowly exhaling.

“Stay here,” he says. “I have to go.”

And without waiting for an answer, he heads out. Hoseong did say, earlier, that Minister Im requested to see him. And if he saw Jongin walking away, chances are he won’t be in a pleasant mood. The last thing he needs is a grumpy, pretentious old man giving him an umpteenth piece of so-called _advice_ about respect.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

They say misfortune never comes one at a time.

And although Jongin has always found people using adages rather ridiculous, his mind has been taunting him with this one all the way from his living quarters to his brother’s pavilion.

He can’t help but find it ironic that this would happen just when the King started getting somewhat better.

He hasn’t been given much explanation, only a mere “something happened to His Highness Prince Jongdae,” but considering how livid the court lady looked as she relayed the information, Jongin knows whatever he is about to find beyond this door is serious.

 

Blood.

Shining ruby all over Changwook’s hands, covering the small blade he holds, smeared all over Jongdae’s forearm, dripping from three long, clean, muscle-deep gashes.

“What are you doing?!”

His shout startles everyone in the room, but he doesn’t care.

By the next second, he has already shoved the apprentice away and knelt next to his brother, burning eyes taking in all the crimson still soaking the white cloth under his arm.

Eyes closed and ashen face, Jongdae is shivering, skin covered in a thick layer sweat.

“Hyung-nim?” he calls, voice cracking before the back of his shaking hand covers his mouth to prevent the sob bubbling in his throat from coming out.

Behind him, a wail and a gasp echo, and soon after, Seohyun and Jongdae’s mother drop on their knees by his sides.

Leaning over Jongdae’s head, Lady Miyeon starts sobbing, her tears falling on the Prince’s face as she presses her lips against his forehead, hand brushing his hair away.

This is what a mother does, Jongin thinks, feeling his heart clench. She rushes by her child’s side when they’re sick. She worries about their safety. She cries, too, when she fails to protect them.

She loves them, unconditionally. She is always there for them.

“What happened to him?” Seohyun asks, pulling him out of his thoughts when she slides her hand against his palm.

Instantly, Jongin’s head snaps to the right, where Changwook is now standing, the scarlet-tinted blade still between his fingers.

“Explain yourself,” he growls, his sister hand in his the only thing keeping him from getting up and marching toward the apprentice.

“It was my fault, Your Highness,” someone behind him says in a choked up voice.

Eyes widening, Jongin turns around, finding Wonchul with tears streaming down his cheeks, taking a step forward and deeply bowing.

“What do you mean?”

“His Highness wanted to have a walk outside the palace grounds, like he often does,” Jongdae’s personal eunuch says before pausing to sniffle. “We never wander too far, we usually stay in the grove right past the East Gate. Prince Jongdae likes the sound of the wind in the trees,” he adds with a quiet sob that makes Jongin’s stomach jolt.

He knows about that. Back when they were kids, he was the one who used to drag Jongdae in that grove the first time. They went back many times, always supervised by guards. But when Jongin’s life had changed, he stopped going. He always assumed Jongdae had done the same, but he was apparently wrong.

“Were there only the two of you?” Seohyun asks, voice wavering.

Jongin doesn’t need to see Wonchul nod to know the answer. Of course, they were alone. Why would they need guards? His brother is blind and is not of any use to the King. Attacking him would be pointless.

“His Highness heard something strange ahead of us,” the eunuch continues, whipping his cheeks with his sleeve. “I told him that I would inspect the area and that he should wait for me. I didn’t think-...”

Forced to pause by a heartbreaking sob, the eunuch takes a few seconds to catch his breath, and Jongin notices Hoseong gently rubbing Wonchul’s arm, half-hidden behind the man.

“I didn’t venture that far away, I swear! But then I heard His Highness scream, so I immediately ran back to him, only to find him unconscious, lying in the grass a few meters from where I had left him.”

“Did you see who attacked him?” Jongin presses, heartbeat quickening.

“I carried him back to the palace as quickly as I could,” Wonchul replies, half choking up. “Changwook-ssi is the one who found the fangs mark when he got here.”

“Fangs mark?”

“A snakebite, Your Highness,” Changwook finally intervenes, stepping forward with evident caution until he comes down on his knees, between Seohyun and Jongin. “May I?” he asks, gesturing at Jongdae’s sliced arm.

With a sharp nod, Jongin lets go of his sister's hand to allow the apprentice to reach out.

“Here. Above his wrist,” the apprentice says, carefully handling Jongdae’s limb.

Sure enough, still bleeding, the two precise puncture marks are clearly unmistakable, despite being surrounded by a dark bruise.

“But... I never heard of any venomous snake around here,” Seohyun says, audibly panicked.

“There is at least one, now, Your Highness,” Changwook answers. “And although I haven’t yet been able to determine what species it belongs to, it is evident its venom is powerful.”

“How do you know?” Seohyun asks again, hands pressed against her sternum as if she were trying to calm her heart rate.

“Your brother’s arm was already extremely swollen when I got here,” Changwook explains, clearly using a slow and gentle voice to avoid alarming her even more. “The Royal Physician left the palace for supplies, early morning. He won’t be back for a couple of weeks… I had to do something,” he says, gesturing toward the deep cuts. “We call them relaxation incisions. It not only helps to drain the venom out but also to release the tension on the skin and flesh created by the abrupt swelling. The toxin is really fast-acting.”

“Is this why he was unconscious when Wonchul found him?” Jongin questions, hearing another choked up sob from the eunuch behind them.

“I don’t think so, Your Highness. I also found a wound on the back of his head,” Changwook says, and with a glance, Jongin notices the blood-soaked cloth laying on the pillow. ”He probably fell on a rock after getting bitten, and the impact knocked him out.”

As he speaks, the apprentice starts wrapping a clean cloth around the arm, that almost immediately turns crimson.

“Can you do something?”

“Not without knowing what snake it was. I need to study its venom.”

His mind has barely the time to process the words that Jongin is already on his feet and heading out. Hailing the first guard he sees, he immediately orders him to take a group to the grove and search for the reptile, before going back in.

“They’ll bring it back,” he tells Changwook as he kneels back by Jongdae’s side. “Do what you can in the meantime.”

 

From then on, it feels like a cruel waiting game. Time passes too slowly, and Jongin is forced to helplessly watch his brother’s condition deteriorate more and more.

After an hour, Jongdae wakes up, but too weak to even really open his eyes, he ends up only being able to let out a feeble whimper, drown by the sound of his mother’s sobs.

Two hours in, the whimpers turn to ragged moans, a trembling hand clutching at his abdomen in obvious pain.

At the three hours mark, he starts vomiting, and it’s with a heaving stomach that Jongin helps Changwook turning his brother on his side, so that he doesn’t choke on the content of his own stomach.

When the elder passes out a bit later, Jongin stumbles up on his feet and drags himself outside as fast as he can, needing some to breathe some air that is not saturated with the mingled smells of blood and vomit. He refuses to shed a tear in front of all the people in the room. They need him to be strong.

His steps unconsciously lead him in the gardens, only slowing down when he passes in front of one of the crocus flowerbeds. They look sad, with only the long, narrow leaves left. They’ll bloom again, come autumn, but at that moment, it’s as if all the life had been sucked out of them, leaving them to wither under the rain, like a perfect reflection of how he has been feeling lately.

When he hears footsteps approaching, Jongin whirls around, somehow bracing himself for yet another bad news someone would be coming to relay.

It is not bad news.

Or perhaps it is, in a way, because standing in front of him is Suho, who he thought had left already. He had disappeared from Kyungsoo’s room when Jongin woke up that morning, and albeit surprising, he assumed the hybrid had eventually listened to him and taken off during the night.

Obviously, he had been wrong.

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard about what happened to your brother,” Suho replies, and although it doesn’t exactly answer his question, the mention of Jongdae’s name makes him forget he should tell him to _leave_ again.

“So? Are you going to tell me you can magically cure him?”

“No,” the hybrid says with a shrug before locking their eyes. “But I know someone who can.”

“Who?”

“ _Kyungsoo_ ,” he replies with that same weird manner of pronouncing the name. “His father is our healer. He learned many things from him.”

He is smart, Jongin thinks, using the Crown Prince’s newfound weakness to trick him into releasing Kyungsoo so that they can both escape together. It’s well played, and Jongin would almost praise him if he didn’t find it so repulsive.

“It would be in your best interest to leave,” he says in a low, threatening voice. “Before I change my mind and get you thrown in the cell next to his.”

Without waiting for an answer, Jongin starts walking again, purposefully bumping his shoulder into the hybrid’s own. Upon arriving in the inner court, he speeds up, spotting the guard he sent out hours ago.

This time, however, it _is_ bad news.

“We couldn’t find any trace of a snake, Your Highness. We searched _everywhere_. I left some men to keep looking, but-”

He doesn’t know if it’s anger or something else he cannot name, but Jongin doesn’t even bother listening to what the soldier was about to say and turns around, heading back over to Jongdae’s living quarters.

His heart sinks when he steps in the bedroom to the sound of Lady Miyeon’s soul-wrenching wails and Seohyun’s sobbing. Right before his eyes, Changwook, Wonchul, and Hoseong all have their hands on Jongdae, half-screaming at each other as they try with all their might to keep his convulsing body on his side.

Frozen, he watches the drool trickling along his brother’s cheek, watches his glassy eyes roll back as his spine arches, again and again, gurgly noises coming out of his lips.

The scene is blood-curdling, and for a moment, Jongin feels like he is going to be sick. But suddenly, two hands are grabbing the front of his gonryongpo, and he finds himself looking down at Lady Miyeon’s manic face.

“Are you going to let my son die?” she yells as she starts shaking him back and forth. “He is your brother! Do something!”

Jongin stares at her, feeling in a daze as he lets himself be joggled.

This is how a mother reacts, he thinks, when her child’s life is in danger.

“It is _your_ responsibility, now!” she keeps screaming, her voice overpowering the chaos reigning in the room. “Don’t just stand there!”

The slap comes out of nowhere, efficiently making him snap back to reality. His eyes widen as a sharp intake of air fills his lungs. She looks wild, glaring at him with enough intensity to make him stumble back.

One step, then another, before he turns on his heels and storms out, ignoring her broken shouts.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

“Let him out. _Now_!”

Startled, the guard doesn’t even consider objecting and rushes toward the cell as Jongin finishes climbing the stairs down. Fumbling with the keys, it takes the man entirely too long to find the right one.

When the door finally opens, it feels like a repeat of that day, all those weeks ago. Snatching the set of keys from the soldier’s hand, Jongin walks in the cell, and doesn’t waste a second before he kneels in front of Kyungsoo and starts to work on the shackles around his wrists.

“I know you probably don’t want to see me right now,” he says in a hurry, shaky fingers struggling to get the small key in. “But I need you to come with me.”

The lock clicks open, and he yanks the shackles off, throwing them away before focusing on the ankle ones.

“My brother... He has been bitten by a snake,” he continues, rushing the words out before letting out a frustrated roar when the lock refuses to cooperate.

Silent and still up to that point, the sound makes Kyungsoo jump. Yet, Jongin refuses to look at him, and instead, he takes a slow deep breath before exhaling in one go and resuming his task. Soon, the cuffs come undone, and he leans forward after dropping them, reaching out to grab the padlock on the side of the collar.

“He is getting worse every passing minute,” he says, picking the smallest key on the ring. “They couldn’t find the snake, and Changwook doesn’t know what to do.”

The liberating tick finally reaches his ears, and this time, he makes sure to be at least a little careful when he takes the leather piece away from Kyungsoo’s neck. Then, tossing the keys on the ground, he finally looks into the snow leopard’s eyes.

“You can hate me, it’s all right,” he declares breathlessly. “But _please_...help him.”

For a few floating seconds, Kyungsoo only stares at him, and Jongin bites the inside of his cheek to prevent the tears from welling up in his eyes.

His heart seems to miss a beat when Kyungsoo gives him a small nod, and without thinking, Jongin gets on his feet and reaches his hand out for the hybrid to take. He doesn’t think much either when Kyungsoo does slip his fingers in his palm and lets himself been helped up, nor when he doesn’t pull out as Jongin starts leading him out.

He doesn’t question either why Suho is standing right outside the military building, only quickly telling at him to follow as he marches toward Jongdae’s living quarters.

All eyes turn in their direction when they walk in. Jongdae has apparently stopped convulsing, so Jongin gestures at the apprentice to move away as he comes closer, Kyungsoo’s hand still in his, and Suho right behind.

“What…” Seohyun begins, her bloodshot eyes sending him an utterly confused look.

“Kyungsoo’s father is a healer. He and his friend might be able to help,” he merely says, stepping back to let the two hybrids some space around Jongdae.

Seohyun immediately approaches him, her hand slipping in the one Kyungsoo had been holding second before. Instinctively, he tugs her closer and presses a kiss against her temple, before looking back in front of them, where Lady Miyeon has reached out and grabbed Kyungsoo’s arm.

“Please, save my son.”

Jongin watches the hybrid awkwardly nod, ears twitching before he plunges both hands into the large bowl filled with bloodied water near Jongdae’s arm to wash them.

For several minutes, the two hybrids delicately handle Jongdae’s body, talking in low voices in the tribe’s language. Their palms lightly press here and there on the Prince’s skin, as if they were trying to feel what lies deep underneath.

Kyungsoo’s ears twitch when he leans down to smell the puncture marks, a pronounced crease carving several lines between his brows before he gestures at Suho to do the same.

“What is it?” Jongin asks when he sees Kyungsoo shake his head after they exchange a few more words.

Suho looks confused when he turns to look at the Crown Prince.

“I think he was bitten by what you call a _salmusa_ ,” the hybrid says, glancing at Kyungsoo when he clicks his tongue. “A Japanese mamushi pit viper.”

Jongin’s heart sinks at the familiar name.

He learned about them, amongst other endemic animals living all across Asia. Those snakes are infamous for being the most venomous species in Japan and had spread throughout Korea and China long ago.

As far as he knows, not a single human has survived a bite.

“The fangs are too far apart,” Kyungsoo intervenes, thumb brushing the bruise surrounding the snakebite. “And the venom seems way more potent. It’s not…”

“It might have been a large one,” Suho replies, before lifting the cloth covering the incisions Changwook made. “He is not coagulating. It _has_ to be a mamushi.”

With a frustrated sigh, Kyungsoo turns toward Wonchul.

“You were with him, correct?” he asks, earning a shaky nod. “And you didn’t see anything?”

“N-no.”

“The guards didn’t find the snake,” Jongin provides as Kyungsoo’s eyes return to Jongdae’s arm, gently applying a clean cloth on the cuts.

“Can you do something?” Seohyun asks, trembling against Jongin’s chest.

The look Kyungsoo sends to Changwook is unreadable, and the apprentice promptly lowers his head, looking somewhat ashamed.

“The incisions will help. Now, I can’t make an antivenom _without_ the venom,” Kyungsoo replies, before pausing, seemingly thinking hard. “But I can try to neutralize it differently. It won’t be as effective and not nearly as quick, but it could work.”

The mention of a solution makes Changwook perk up, his eyes widening.

“How?”

“I’ll need some plants,” Kyungsoo answers without looking at the apprentice.

“Which one?” Changwook asks.

Oddly, Kyungsoo still doesn’t acknowledge the question and turns toward Jongin instead.

“They grow in the wild. Some are highly poisonous, but they’re still rather common. I’m sure _Suho_ and I can find them near the palace.”

“Perhaps I have them, then,” Changwook chimes in again, visibly eager to get the chance to finally help. “Or maybe we can find them in the Royal Physician’s office.”

“Unlikely,” Kyungsoo curtly replies.

“How would you-”

“Go,” Seohyun says, interrupting the apprentice’s question.

With a brief nod, Kyungsoo gets on his feet, Suho following suit when he heads for the door.

The silence comes back as soon as they’re out, only troubled by Lady Miyeon faint sniffling as she repeatedly runs her hand through Jongdae’s hair.

Jongin stays still for a few seconds before a weight starts settling in the pit of his stomach, a sense of foreboding spreading through his body. Gently detaching himself from his sister, he exits the room and rushes down the stairs when he spots the two hybrids already way ahead, striding as fast as he can to catch up.

Pushed by the dreadful apprehension coursing in his veins, his fingers curl around Kyungsoo’s wrist before he has the time to think this through.

“Do you really think I’m going to let you leave like that?” he says right as Kyungsoo’s head snap around.

“You will,” the hybrid replies in a harsh tone. “Unless you want to see your brother die.”

“Why can’t you describe the plants to someone? They can get them for you.”

“We don’t have time to waste,” Suho intervenes. “The venom has spread a lot already. It’ll be faster if we go.”

“Will it?” Jongin asks as he suddenly realizes what might be going on. “Or is it just part of your plan to get him to escape?” he spits at Suho. “You were gone this morning. Are you the one who got him bitten? Did you come back and pretended to unexpectedly stumble upon me in the gardens, knowing I would need help? Knowing I would need _his_ help?”

Without releasing Kyungsoo, he steps forward until standing right in front of Suho, rage burning in his guts.

“What that your plan? Did you two discussed it yesterday?” he hisses. “So that he would pretend to need plants that just so happen to grow _outside_? And you-”

He startles when Kyungsoo yanks his arm back, not violently enough to free himself, but successfully pulling him away from Suho.

“Is that how poorly you think of us? Of _me_?” Kyungsoo asks, looking angered, yet disappointed. “Your brother has only ever been kind to me. Do you really think I would cause him any harm?”

As selfish and uncalled as it is at that moment, Jongin feels hurt by those words. Being reminded of how close Kyungsoo and Jongdae have grown over the months stings more than he would like to admit. He is left speechless, staring into those opalescent eyes burning through his core.

“We don’t have time for that,” Kyungsoo says, shaking his head. “If you want me to help, you have to let me go.”

Unconsciously, Jongin’s hold on the hybrid’s wrist tightens. His thoughts are spiraling as they keep looking at each other.

“You can lock me back in that cell when I’m done saving him.”

Like a punch in the guts, the words, albeit said in an impassive tone, steal all the air from his lungs, and he feels his eyes starting to burn.

The silence is suffocating as his vision grows hazy, and slowly, his fingers start unfastening.

“You have to come back,” he whispers when his grip has almost entirely loosened.

“I will.”

“You can’t abandon him…”

For a fleeting second, something flickers in Kyungsoo eyes, and Jongin wonders if, perhaps, he knows he is not only talking about Jongdae. But it’s gone as fast as it appeared, and when the hybrid replies, Jongin realizes he was wrong.

“I will never intentionally hurt him.”

He was only referring to Jongdae, Jongin thinks as he watches the two snow leopards scurry away. The healing wounds on his back are proof enough of that, yet not as much as the one deep in his heart.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Jongin has barely seen Kyungsoo in the past four days.

He only knows he and Suho are still here thanks to Haejin who told him the two friends spend the nights in the domestics’ quarters, as well as Seohyun who assured him Kyungsoo has been coming to see Jongdae at least twice every day to check on his condition improvements.

He almost let out a dejected laugh when his sister mentioned it.

With the amount of time Jongin himself has spent by his brother’s sides, neglecting a lot of his obligations as regent, it’s quite clear Kyungsoo is purposefully choosing to visit Jongdae when the Crown Prince cannot avoid his responsibilities to keep him busy elsewhere.

Surprisingly, he did stumble on someone else, who seems to visit Jongdae quite often. The first time he entered his brother’s bedroom and found her there, Eunha didn’t even notice him until he cleared his throat. The bloodshot eyes she turned toward him, widening as she hurriedly got on her feet, somewhat confused Jongin. Just as much as the silent tears slowly rolling down her cheeks when he caught her there the next day again.

By the third day, the way she pressed a damp cloth on his brother’s forehead, muttering words Jongin couldn’t hear from where he stood, was enough evidence for him to understand. And when he saw her gently embrace Jongdae’s mother, later that afternoon, he had turned around and decided to come back during the evening instead.

When he returned to his quarters after visiting his slowly recovering father, he had found Changwook knelt at the bottom of the stairs, stripped from his physician apprentice uniform and left in simple jeogori and baji. Hoseong had run to Jongin and informed him the man had been there for _hours_ , imploring the Crown Prince’s forgiveness for not being able to heal Jongdae himself and failing not only the King and Jongin but also the Royal Physician, who has left him in charge of attending to the Royal Family’s health while he was away.

Rather shocked, it had taken a full minute before Jongin had eventually walked up to him, and with perseverance, he had managed to convince him to come inside so that they could talk. With a warm tea and Jongin’s repeated reassurance, Changwook had eventually agreed not to resign and to remain at the King’s service.

By the time he left and headed over the Royal Pharmacy building, escorted by Hoseong at Jongin’s request, the sun had long set, and Jongin had gone to bed feeling drained. After everything that had happened with Kyungsoo, he simply couldn’t let go of one of the very few people he had been able to connect with.

Especially knowing what he had decided to do the next day.

 

It has been a little tricky, but with Hoseong’s help, Jongin has managed to get Kyungsoo to meet him.

Or, well, the eunuch had told the hybrid that Yeonjoo had wandered away and no one could find her, so his help would be much appreciated, specifically in the gardens, since they were such a maze that several people were needed to scour them. Coincidentally, and unbeknownst to Kyungsoo, the Crown Prince would be one of those people.

Of course, as he waits under the shade of a tree, Jongin knows for a fact that his niece is safe in her room with her grandmother, most likely going through her lesson of the day, and probably sporting a grumpy pout, considering she can’t enjoy the sunny weather.

He supposes asking the easily alarmed young man to act as such was a bit of a low blow, but this is the best idea he could come up with. And he can’t help but think it was a good one when he hears rapid footsteps right before seeing Kyungsoo appears around the high hedge corner.

At least he was right. The hybrid does care about Yeonjoo.

It doesn’t take long before he gets spotted, and he feels his chest tighten when Kyungsoo’s steps falter, a frown making its way between his thick brows almost instantly. He seems reluctant to come closer, and Jongin bites the inside of his cheek, taking upon himself to cross the distance between them.

By the time he stands in front of him, the hybrid has completely stopped, eyes turned away and ears twitching.

“Good morning,” Jongin says before clearing his throat to get rid of the weird strain in his voice.

After everything, he shouldn’t be feeling that sense of calm spreading in his body like a warm wave. Nor should he hope for Kyungsoo to look at him.

“Did you find her?” Kyungsoo bluntly asks, clearly assuming he had been looking for Yeonjoo as well. “The little Princess.”

“She’s… She’s all right.”

It’s not a lie per se; she _is_ fine. But he doesn’t necessarily need to admit she was never in danger to begin with, right?

This, however, seems to be the cue for Kyungsoo to turn around and walk away.

“Wait!”

Disregarding his call, Kyungsoo rounds the hedge and starts following the footway leading to the pond. In a few long strides, Jongin catches up, fighting the urge to grab his arm to stop him.

“Wait,” he repeats. “I need to talk to you.”

Once again, his words get ignored, and he clicks his tongue, speeding up to bypass the hybrid. Two steps ahead, he suddenly stops and whirls around, planting himself right in front of him to block him. But Kyungsoo has obviously no intention of giving in, and simply sidesteps him without even slowing down.

With a sigh, Jongin follows.

What did he expect, really?

“Can you just listen to me?”

For a moment, he almost things he succeeded when he sees the snow leopard halt his steps. However, Kyungsoo’s head soon snaps to his right, nose twitching. Ears perked up, he looks somewhat confused by whatever caught his attention, and Jongin is about to question him about it when the hybrid shakes his head and resumes walking.

With yet another sigh, Jongin trails behind, frustration starting to build up.

“Will you stop running away from me?”

As much as he wanted Kyungsoo to oblige, he wasn’t expecting to see him abruptly stop and whip around.

“What do you want?”

His tone is not aggressive, but the stoicism, tinged with boredom, shows Jongin he would rather be anywhere but here with him.

He can’t fault him, really. But he also needs to talk to him, although now that Kyungsoo is listening, the words seem to be stuck in the knot fasten around his throat.

“I… I wanted to tell you that I’m...grateful,” he says, forcing them out anyway because he _has to_ ; because this is the last chance he’ll get. “That you helped my brother.”

“I couldn’t let him die.”

“I know,” Jongin nods. “And I shouldn’t have doubted that.”

Still not looking at him, Kyungsoo lets out a sigh, his shoulders dropping some of the tension they held before.

“Is that all?”

“No. I also… Suho told me,” Jongin stammers, this time getting Kyungsoo’s eyes to turn his way. “About...what is happening to your mother. To your family.”

“So what?” the hybrid replies, looking somewhat suspicious.

He might have gotten blatant pieces of evidence before, but it still hurts more than Jongin would ever admit, to know that this is how Kyungsoo sees him. How he has always seen him, in the end. Like someone he must be wary of, someone he can’t let himself trust.

It hurts to know this is how he will be remembered.

“You  have to go.”

The effect is instantaneous.

Eyes widening and lips slightly parting, Kyungsoo looks so stunned it would almost be funny, had Jongin not been fighting to keep his entire body from shaking, pain spreading from his chest down to his fingertips.

“Wh-what?”

“Your family needs you...so, you should go,” Jongin says, the words grating and burning his throat.

It hurts even more to see the spark of joy flickering in the feline’s opalescent eyes.

“You’re letting me leave?”

“I am.”

“What about your father?”

“Don’t worry,” Jongin says, looking down and taking a few seconds to swallows the tears back. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t send anyone after you.”

It’s not like the King is exactly in the capacity of ordering anyone around, but Jongin wants to reassure Kyungsoo, anyway. And should his father miraculously heal, he does plan on keeping his word.

“That’s not what I meant.”

With a frown, Jongin stares at him. Kyungsoo’s expression in unreadable and Jongin doesn’t know what to do of the slight change in his tone. So he shrugs, letting out a faint, dejected chuckle.

“Well, he might be getting better, but even if he takes back his rightful place as King, he can’t really get me executed for disobeying,” he says, eyes fluttering away. “The throne needs an heir. And at this point, it’s the ministers’ opinion I’m going against.”

They did make very clear what they thought about him releasing Kyungsoo from his cell, going to the extent of mentioning his mother to guilt-trip him. And all the other bureaucrats had acted just the same. Despite not attending as many meetings as he should have, every time he did, all his suggestions, comments or questions were systematically countered or regarded as proof of his ignorance.

It had been anything but pleasant. Now it’ll just get worse.

“And...when my family is safe…?” Kyungsoo tentatively asks.

Blinking away the blur in his eyes, Jongin gulps down, trying to prevent his breath from coming out too shaky.

It does anyway.

“Don’t come back.”

Kyungsoo is still staring, something Jongin cannot pinpoint painting his beautiful features. When his lips part, however, the Crown Prince doesn’t give him the chance to speak.

“Just give me a few days,” he quickly says, clearing his throat and willing himself to regain his composure. “I’ll get Taeil and Sehun to handle the night guard round at the North Gates. They’ll let you both pass.”

For a few more floating seconds, Kyungsoo’s expression remains indecipherable, before he tries to reply again. But once more, Jongin doesn’t let him.

“You’ll be with your people soon,” he says, offering a smile he hopes is not as wistful as he feels. “I promise.”

And before the hybrid has the time to say anything, Jongin turns around and walks away.

 

He ends stumbling upon Suho as he makes his way over to Jongdae’s pavilion.

In the middle of the inner court, the hybrid seems to be looking for someone; for _him_ , apparently, judging by the way his face lights up when he spots Jongin, strides resolute as he marches in his direction.

It’s a good thing, Jongin thinks, easily guessing what the snow leopard is about to tell him.

He doesn’t take offense at the lack of proper greeting and silently waits for Suho to speak.

“I was looking for you,” the hybrid bluntly starts. “We need to talk.”

“Indeed.”

“Look, it will take a long time, but your brother is going to recover,” Suho states, sounding like he thinks he needs to convince the Crown Prince.

Jongin is already aware, of course. Even only four days after getting treated, and despite still being unconscious, there have been some slight improvements in Jongdae’s health condition. As insane as it may sound to anyone else, he does trust Kyungsoo did whatever he could to save him.

“Your healer can take it from here,” the feline continues. “He will only need to keep the wounds clean and make sure the venom is fully drained out.”

“I know.”

“And I told you I understood why you couldn’t let _Kyungsoo_ out of that cell. But he _is_ out, now. So-”

“Can I ask you something?” Jongin interrupts him, earning a baffled look.

“S-sure,” the hybrid replies, frowning in apparent confusion.

“How do you speak Korean so well? Kyungsoo could barely form proper sentences when he arrived.”

His astonished expression and the way he blinks at Jongin are almost comical, and Jongin might have chuckled, were he not still going through the painful aftermath of his conversation with Kyungsoo.

“Why-...” Suho starts before pausing and staring at him as if the Crown Prince were the biggest mystery he faced in his life.

Offering a small smile, Jongin silently waits, until the hybrid eventually sighs, somewhat losing the dubious look on his face.

“His brother and I are usually the ones handling the trades with the villagers at the borders.”

“I see…”

“So, like I was saying, if you-”

“I suppose his brother will be glad to have you back, then.”

“Wh-what?”

“Maybe Kyungsoo can even help you from now on.”

“What are you-”

“His Korean improved a lot, thanks to my brother.”

If the hybrid was perplexed before, he looks absolutely stunned now, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. And once again, Jongin would probably be amused, if the words hadn’t just brought back the ache deep in his chest.

“Do you mean…” Suho says, seemingly unable to finish his sentences.

“I talked to him already. If you can wait for a few days, I’ll make sure you two can pass the gates without trouble.”

“I didn’t… I thought...”

“Just...bring him back safely to his family.”

“Of course, I will,” the snow leopard eventually nods, still looking quite shaken, before a small smile lifts the sides of his mouth. “Thank you.”

“Well, like you said, his-”

“Your Highness!”

Startled, Jongin’s head whips around, his eyes landing on Hoseong, who is hurriedly heading their way.

“Your Highness,” he repeats as he gets closer, and his voice sounds choked, although not in the usual panic Jongin is familiar with.

“What is it?”

“Prince Jongdae,” the eunuch says, and Jongin’s heart misses a beat. “He woke up, Your Highness.”

One second is all it takes.

One second and Jongin is bolting toward his brother’s pavilion, disregarding the royal composure he is expected to maintain at all time.

He is heavily panting when he storms inside the bedroom. People are crying everywhere; Lady Miyeon, knelt by Jongdae’s side, Eunha and Seohyun, standing a few steps away, fingers intertwined. Even Wonchul, in the corner of the room. And yet, through the tears, their smiles are shining bright enough to lighten the whole room. As soon as Seohyun sees him, she steps away from Eunha and rushes over to him, throwing herself in his arms. Gently embracing her shaking body, he listens to her relieved chuckles mixing with her sobs.

His eyes, however, remain locked on Jongdae’s face. He is still incredibly pale, but the corner of his lips are curled up, ever so slightly, in a feeble version of his perpetual grin.

“Go,” Seohyun breathes out with a sniffle, detaching herself from him.

Like in a daze, Jongin slowly makes his way across the room and kneels next to Lady Miyeon, who beams at him brighter than he ever saw.

“Jongin-ah?”

Jongdae’s voice is weak, barely over a whisper, but he pulls a choked up chuckle out of him.

“You still recognized me, even in that state,” he says, vision turning blurry as his brother slightly turns his head toward him.

As glassy as they are, and as creepy as he has always found them, Jongin feels so happy to see his eyes.

“You shuffle, remember?”

The tears come out on their own, and he doesn’t even bother wiping them away as he nods, even if his brother can’t see him.

“I guess I do,” he replies, sounding halfway between a scoff and a sob.

“Jongin-ah,” the elder calls again, more seriously.

“Mmh?”

“Did you catch her?”

“H-her?”

Confused, he glances at the others, only to find them just as intrigued.

“Catch who?”

“The woman,” Jongdae says. “The woman who attacked me.”


	11. Chapter 11

“What do you mean?” Jongin asks, eyes locked on his brother’s pallid face.

“She came out of nowhere,” Jongdae says. “I didn’t even hear her. But her hands were small and delicate. With long and ragged nails. She was rather petite.”

“Jongdae, what are you talking about?” Seohyun asks, stepping closer and sending a concerned look at Jongin when he glances at her.

“She grabbed me,” their brother says, a frown creasing his forehead. “Wonchul? Didn’t you see her?”

“N-no, Your Highness,” the eunuch replies, sounding somewhat frightened. “I- I heard you scream, and found you unconscious on the ground. You hit your head when you fell…”

“No. _She_ hit me with something,” Jongdae says, confusion painting his tired features. “I started feeling dizzy, and she pinned me to the ground. Then my wrist was suddenly on fire.”

“Your Highness was bitten by a snake,” Changwook says, surprising Jongin who hadn’t heard him enter the room.

“Hold on... How could you even pick up all this about her?” Jongin asks, baffled by how many details Jongdae had given.

He is _blind_. How was he able to notice all this?

“I told you Kyungsoo taught me how to focus on my other senses,” Jongdae replies, clearly understanding what he implied.

“But how could a _petite_ woman attack you? That’s ridiculous… Didn’t you try to escape?”

Even without his sight, his brother is still a man. How could he be so easily out-strengthened?

“I did. But she was strong,” Jongdae says. “Really strong.”

“Wait,” Seohyun chimes in. “Did she get a snake to bite you? How would that be possible?”

“I’m not… I did hear a hiss, but…”

“But what?” Jongin presses when Jongdae falters, looking like all the talking was too much for his weakened state.

“That’s enough,” Lady Miyeon interjects. “He needs to rest.”

“No. I need to know,” Jongin retorts before looking back at his brother. “But what, Hyung-nim?”

“The hiss… I think it came from her.”

With the sound of gasps echoing in the room from all direction, Jongin stares at Jongdae, wondering if the venom has somehow damaged his brother’s brain. What he just said makes absolutely no sense.

“What do you _mean_ it came from her?”

“Are you implying what I think you are?” Seohyun says, sounding just as concern for Jongdae’s sanity.

“Aren’t snake hybrids supposed to be extinct?”

Head snapping around, Jongin’s eyes land on Suho, who stands on the threshold, Kyungsoo by his side. Just like with the Physician’s apprentice, he didn’t even hear them come in. Suho must have gone to find Kyungsoo after hearing Hoseong’s news and brought him here.

“They are,” Changwook replies with a nod. “Regardless of the species, their venom was much more powerful than their animal counterparts. They were untamable and far too dangerous.”

“Changwook-ssi is right,” Eunha intervenes for the first time since Jongin got here. “The last ones lived in Yeonsan, but they were killed decades ago…”

The air has grown tense inside the room, everyone glancing at each other with worry carved on their faces. Turning toward Jongdae, Jongin sighs, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Are you _certain_?”

“I… As much as I can be, yes.”

This time, when Lady Miyeon requests that they let her son rest after Jongdae squeezed his eyes shut, looking like he got hit by a wave of nausea, Jongin gives in and nods at her, getting up on his feet.

Once outside, they all scatter. Jongin offers a smile to Seohyun when she takes his hand, giving it a light squeeze before she tells him she needs to check on Yeonjoo.

He is left alone with Changwook, who looks anxious and so deep in thoughts that Jongin is reluctant to interrupt.

“Have you ever heard of mamushi hybrids?” he asks nonetheless, feeling bad when the apprentice flinches.

“No, never,” the man says, biting his lips. ”But if your brother is right… Your Highness needs to be extremely careful.”

“What do you mean?”

Before Changwook has the chance to answer, rapid footsteps come their way, and Jongin turns to look at Taeil heading their way.

“Hoseong told me His Highness had woken up!” the guard says, sounding excited. “How is he?”

With a glance toward Changwook, who sadly smiles in return, Jongin sighs. He first reassures his friend about Jongdae’s condition, then starts to relay the new information they had gotten from the Prince. The more he speaks, the larger Taeil’s eyes grow, and the more alarmed he looks.

“I was just telling His Highness how vigilant he needs to be, from now on,” Changwook says, almost timidly, earning a vigorous nod from Taeil.

“We need to get more guards to protect you,” Taeil says.

“I don’t understand. Why should _I_ be cautious?” Jongin asks, rather confused.

“Because...what if you were the real target?” Changwook tentatively asks, looking down when Jongin’s brows fly up.

“What?”

“What happened to His Highness Prince Jongdae is unlikely to have been an accident.”

“It’s a good thing you let Kyungsoo out of his cell,” Taeil continues. “We’ll need his help.”

The heavy weight falling in the pit of his stomach almost expels all the air out of his lungs, leaving him winded.

“N-no… You can’t… He is...leaving. Soon.”

“Leaving?” Changwook questions, his widened eyes matching Taeil’s own, and Jongin forces himself to nod.

“I’m letting him go. With his friend. His family needs him.”

“Your Highness can’t do that,” Taeil says, now clearly panicked. “If it’s a hybrid we’re dealing with, we can’t protect you. Or at least not as well as _he_ could.”

“You don’t understand,” Jongin retorts, mentally cursing at himself for the waver in his voice. “I can’t just tell him I changed my mind.”

“You have to!” Taeil exclaims too quickly, before suddenly realizing the tone he used. “Your Highness,” he adds, looking contrite, yet not backing off. “You _know_ I would give my life for you. We all would. But considering what happened to Prince Jongdae… If that hybrid attacks you…”

“I agree with him, Your Highness. If this...woman is really what we think she is-”

“We have many hybrids working at the palace,” Jongin cuts the apprentice, feeling his frustration overpower the suffocating pain tightening his chest. “They could-”

“With all due respect,” Taeil interrupts. “None of them is trained to fight. None of them knows how to _hunt_. His Majesty offered him to you for precisely this sort of situation. You need him, Your Highness. You need both of them, actually.”

“I… I can’t,” Jongin breathlessly repeats, shaking his head. “I told him… I _cannot_ break another promise.”

They can’t ask this of him. How can they expect him to take his words back?

“But you must,” Changwook softly says after a short pause, offering him a regretful smile when Jongin looks up at him. “Your Highness needs to be protected.”

“I can defend myself,” Jongin says, his voice sounding pitiful even to his own ears.

“Of course you can,” Taeil replies, much gentler as well. “But what if that hybrid decides to go after your sister? After your niece?” he asks. “What if she goes after His Majesty?”

Closing his eyes, Jongin bites the inside of his cheek.

He knows they’re right. But how is he supposed to explain this to Kyungsoo? How can he ask him to protect the Royal family, when it means abandoning his own people?

How can he look at him in the eyes, and prove him just how right Kyungsoo was not to trust him?

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Jongin doesn’t get the opportunity to talk to Kyungsoo before the next day.

Admittedly, he didn’t exactly look for him, actually going to the extent of avoiding everyone except Hoseong after his conversation with Taeil and Changwook, and returning straight to his quarters after the meeting he has to attend later in the afternoon.

Although, in spite of how distracted he was, he did manage to have a private conversation with Minister Nam, who is in charge of military affairs, and agreed on taking some safety measures in and around the palace. This would include reinforced surveillance at each of the four Gates, which seemed highly needed considering how Suho had been able to come in undetected, as well as more frequent patrols within the palace grounds. The man had even suggested a curfew, which Jongin had, however, judged excessive.

He still does, even after secretly considering it when he found himself alone. But no matter how dangerous that hybrid is, she remains _one person_ , and there is still no proof her attack was targeting the royal family, provided that she even exists, to begin with. A curfew would only serve to spread panic amongst people, which he is far from ready to handle, still not used to having to take important decisions that could affect many lives.

However, despite his reserves, he can’t help but suddenly be on edge when he hears noises inside his pavilion as he returns from visiting Jongdae. Hoseong is already gone, needed for the monthly inspection of the eunuchs’ quarters, and he doesn’t want to call for one of the guards posted outside his doors.  
It might only be a maid tidying the bedrooms; no need to alert the masses before he is sure there is an actual threat. It’s still too early to traumatize a poor girl by barging into the room with a wielded sword.

Yet, just in case, Jongin silently grabs one of the decorative sculptures propped on the chest of drawers, picking the heaviest one, and slowly heads for the hallway. He keeps his footstep quiet as walks pass his door, following the faint sounds apparently coming from Kyungsoo’s bedroom.

Leaning his ear close to the wooden panel provides him with no hint as to who is inside, only hearing ruffles of fabric. So, bracing himself, he places his fingers on the indentation and swiftly slides the door open.

It’s not a maid.

But it _is_ a hybrid.

The very one he doesn’t really want to see, yet still yearns to have more time allotted with.

Silver hair swinging, Kyungsoo glances over his shoulder, looking nowhere near surprised to see him.

Of course, he must have smelt him as soon as Jongin entered his living quarters.

“It’s you,” Jongin breathes, unable to avert his eyes.

He is back in his old clothes, and Jongin feels his heart pang at the sole thought of what he has to do now.

He doesn’t want to, but no matter how many hours he spent, lying awake until the wee hours of the morning to try to find an alternative, any other solution that could prevent him for breaking his promise, nothing seemed good enough.

Not only Kyungsoo knows how to hunt and fight, but he remains the only one knowing how to neutralize the venom, should anyone else happen to be assaulted and bitten.

Perhaps this is what it means to rule. Sacrificing one person, to keep many more safe.

But no matter how much Kyungsoo will hate him for this, it won’t get even close to how much Jongin loathes himself.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Kyungsoo asks in an oddly teasing tone, raising a brow when he glances at the sculpture in his hand.

“No,” he replies with a shake of his head as he steps in.

Placing the jade dragon on the nearest chest of drawers, he peeks at what Kyungsoo is doing, seeing the small bundle ready to be tied shut. And once again, his chest tightens when he recognizes the leather boots placed inside; the ones he has had made for the snow leopard, soon after he arrived at the palace.

Kyungsoo must notice him staring at them, because his demeanor changes, looking somewhat embarrassed when Jongin looks back at him.

“Is it okay if I take them?” he asks, his lips pursing in an odd straight smile. “They’re not...as horrible as I first thought,” he adds when Jongin doesn’t reply.

“Listen, I…”

“I can leave them here if you prefer. I don’t really-”

“It’s not… It’s about the boots,” Jongin says, looking away and biting the inside of his cheeks to at least willingly be in charge of some of the pain he feels. “I just…”

“Is something wrong?”

Closing his eyes, Jongin takes a deep breath and slowly exhales. Then, he looks back at Kyungsoo who has taken a few steps towards him as he spoke.

“I know I told you I would let you leave, but…”

He doesn’t even need to finish his sentence for the words to have an impact on the hybrid. In an instant, his composure has evaporated, and Jongin finds himself pinned by the intensity of his stare and the tension thickening the air.

“But _what_?”

“I… I can’t. Not yet.”

“Why not?” the hybrid asks through gritted teeth.

“Because I need you.”

Even to him, the words are lacking resolve, and yet, it doesn’t prevent Kyungsoo to start glaring.

“You heard what Jongdae said,” Jongin continues, knowing he needs to at least try giving him some arguments if he wants to salvage whatever remains of the semblance of bond they shared. “Changwook thinks-”

Kyungsoo hateful scoff startles him, but he decides to ignore it.

“ _Changwook thinks_ ,” he repeats, emphasizing the words. “That it might have not been an accident. And I know you don’t like him, you made that very clear, but...what if he’s right?”

“What do you expect me to say? That I’ll abandon my family because your precious _friend_ decided to speculate?”

“Taeil agreed,” Jongin retorts, knowing deep down that he is not addressing the main problem Kyungsoo just rose, but still needing to at least make him understand. “What if that hybrid comes after my sister or Yeonjoo? She’s dangerous, and the guards...they can’t… I need someone who will be able to-”

“You promised you’d let me leave,” Kyungsoo spits, his face contorted by anger, eyes as poisonous as the venom that coursed through Jongdae’s veins. “What happened to always keeping your word, _Your Highness_?”

“I will! I will let you leave, but...not now! I need you! I-”

He shouldn’t be surprised, really, when Kyungsoo rushes past him, shoulder colliding against his own with so much virulence that he stumbles right into the chest of drawer, feeling the wood dig into one of the wounds on his lower back.

He shouldn’t be surprised.

And he is not.

But it hurts, nonetheless.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Perhaps one day, in retrospect, Jongin will blame his preceptor for announcing him out of the blue that he wished to resign from his position and return to his hometown, now that Jongin didn’t need him anymore. Or perhaps he will blame population and land censuses data for being so boringly distracting and keeping his mind focused on a problem Minister Gwon had brought up during their recent meeting when he should have been more aware of surroundings.

Because perhaps, had he been paying attention, he would have heard it sooner.

But he doesn’t, and when he finally registers the footsteps behind him, a hand is already gripping the back of his collar and yanking him back, choking him for a few seconds before he crashes on the paved ground.

Winded by the impact, Jongin is still coughing when he feels a light weight pressing on his stomach. His squeezed shut eyelids shoot up, and he suddenly meets the most sickening eyes he has ever seen.

They’re pools of dark umber, with no white in sight. The band of gold crossing them horizontally seems to extend out on the girl’s temples, and it’s only when she leans closer that he notices the barely visible scales framing her entire face.

“What do we have here?” she coos in a light, velvety voice, the movement of her lips revealing two thin, glistening fangs in front of her human upper teeth. “Isn’t it our sad, sad little prince?”

A long, jagged nail drags down Jongin cheek as she sweetly tilts her head. The lower she leans, the more her disheveled dark brown hair obscure her features, creating a cage around their faces.

Ignoring her, Jongin focuses on the way her body is bent over his, thighs pressed against his waist. She barely weighs anything, and she seems distracted by her own little monologue.

“You’re so handsome,” she continues, hot breath fanning across his face as her finger passes his jawline and trails down the side of his neck. “It’s such a waste.”

The words have barely left her mouth when Jongin jumps into action. Hands shooting up, he shoves her upper body, hips twisting to throw her off balance. Startled, she hisses as she tips over, but not without letting her nail scratch his throat. He doesn’t even feel the sting, however, and lurches toward her, trying to block her before she recovers. But she’s quick, and after some intense wrestling, Jongin understands what Jongdae meant when he insisted on her strength.

She looks barely older than him, and yet, even with her small frame, she manages to impede his attack way too easily, rendering his years of combat training useless.

He is panting when she ends up pinning him back down to the ground, kneels keeping his arms stuck by his sides, and a hand curled around his throat. Jongin stills when he feels her ever so slightly compressing his airway, looking into her gruesome eyes as her tongue makes a tutting sound.

“You are _not_ being very nice,” she scolds him as if he were a child, her pupils contracting into slits.

With an irritated huff, she pushes her long locks away from her face with her free hand before looking back at him.

“Too bad I don’t have much time, or I would’ve taught you some manners,” she continues. “You shouldn’t hit a woman. We are _fragile_.”

Had he not had her palm pressed against the base of his throat, disabling him to even swallow, Jongin might have scoffed. But as he starts feeling dizzy, he can only watch her lean down again until her face hovers above his own.

He knows how bad the situation is. There is no guard around. She struck as he was walking in a narrow alleyway between storage buildings. Barely anyone uses those paths; he only did because it’s a shortcut to reach the archive hall.

He won’t call for help, though. He refuses to give her the pleasure to see any sign of weakness in him.

Fighting against the strong hold on his neck, Jongin tries to turn his head when she bends even further, nuzzling right under his ear. But t movement only increases the pressure on his throat, and a wave of nausea makes him heave as she takes a whiff.

“You truly _reek_ , do you know that?” she says, straightening a little so that she can meet his eyes. “That stray cat of yours has been making things quite difficult for me. He always seems to be lurking around you, somehow. Even at night.”

In spite of the honeyed voice she uses, Jongin can tell she is irked. He can’t truly make sense of her words, however, feeling more and more lightheaded as his body starts thrashing on its own.

“But he isn’t here to get in my way, now, is he?” she chirps with a delighted smile, her tongue poking between her fangs. “I wonder why…”

When she suddenly ever so slightly releases the pressure on his throat, causing his ears to start ringing as he gasps for air, he realizes strangling him is not how she plans on killing him.

“Oh, that’s right,” she says with a little giggle, before coming back down until her lips brush his ears. “The sad little Prince has been a naughty boy and hurt his precious pet.”

The moment he feels the points of her fangs glide on the side of his neck, Jongin starts bucking, out of sheer survival instincts. She easily thwarts his flimsy attempt to break free, though, and her mouth is back against his ears as his breathing turns wheezy, vision going blurry.

“But don’t you worry,” she whispers, sultry breath sending a nauseating shiver down his spine. “I’ll take good care of him.”

In a flash, she releases his neck and straightens up. Loudly gasping, his lungs seem to explode when some air fills them too quickly. Tears are streaming along his temples as he starts coughing, eyes squeezed shut. But the relief is short-lived. Soon, he feels fingers clutching at the front of his hair, and before his mind gets the chance to process what is happening, she violently pulls his head up, then bangs it back on the ground.

Once.

Twice.

A metallic smell invades his nose.

The weight on his upper body slowly lightens as his vision starts blackening.

In a last spurt of conscience, he jerks his arm toward her head, fingers tangling in her messy hair, and yanks down, tearing a hiss out of her and earning a stinging slap.

And when darkness finally engulfs him, it’s to the sound of her footsteps fading away.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Deep blue, all around.

Water, enveloping him.

His body is sinking.

His eyes are burning.

His head is pounding.

His lungs are searing.

He needs air.

But there’s only water.

Crushing him, slowly.

Filling him, suddenly.

With a gasp, Jongin’s eyes shoot open, limbs flailing as he tries to swim toward the surface.

The water is gone, though.

But hands are keeping him from moving.

And a voice, trying to soothe him.

He is panting, heartbeat racing, dark umber orbs flashing in front of him.

“Breathe, Your Highness. Breathe.”

Blinking, Jongin mindlessly obeys, his hand pressed against his sternum.

“Good, just like that,” the voice says. “You’re safe, now. Just keep breathing.”

As he confusedly looks around, Jongin’s eyes land on a familiar face.

Changwook.

“Wh- wh-”

“Don’t try to talk,” the apprentice says when Jongin winces at the burn in his throat. “Your Highness was attacked. Judging by the bruise on your neck, I reckon they tried to strangle you. Your throat will be sore for quite some time.”

Attacked?

“You’re all right,” Changwook quickly says, probably seeing the panic on his face. “You had a wound on the back of your head. It bled a lot, so I had to ask Hoseong’s help to bathe you. I fixed it, but you might experience some dizziness and confusion during the next few days.”

“Wh- who…”

“No one saw your attacker,” the man replies with a frown. “A maid found you unconscious on the ground. I immediately checked your body for a bite mark, as soon as we got you here, but thankfully, I found none.”

Through the fog in his mind, Jongin knows this information should mean something to him. He is just not sure _what_.

It has something to do with Jongdae.

He is worried about his brother. Or he was.

Kyungsoo helped him be less worried, somehow.

“H-how long…” he tries again, pausing when the words scratch his throat and tear a little cough out of him.

“Your Highness slept for nearly an entire day. It’s mid-afternoon, at the moment.”

Jongin nods, gulping down to get rid of the tingles in his throat. Moving his hand away from his chest, he stares at it, rubbing his fingers against each other. For some reason, he feels mildly annoyed to find it empty.

“Is something wrong, Your Highness?” Changwook asks, sporting a concerned frown when Jongin’s eyes flutter toward him.

He shakes his head, returning his gaze to the scratches on his knuckles.

Paved ground.

In a narrow alleyway.

He fell.

No. He was pulled. From behind.

This is where he must have been assaulted.

Something weighed on him, he thinks, his hand pressing against his abdomen.

“You must be angry,” Changwook says, misinterpreting his gesture. “Is it all right if I leave you alone for a little while? I’ll go look for Hoseong so that he can bring you some food.”

Something hot against his ear.

And something pointy on his neck. Like a wasp stinger.

It reeks.

No. _He_ reeks.

“Your Highness?”

Jongin nods, unsure about what he was asked. It seems to be good enough because Changwook gets up and tells him Hoseong will be there soon.

He reeks because of a stray cat.

Stray cats are scary. He got scratched by one when he was young.

He even bled a little.

Shaking his head to clear up his thoughts, Jongin sits up.

The back of his head hurts. Just like his throat and neck. He feels dizzy, as well.

It’s normal, according to Changwook. But the confusion is frustrating.

He knows he should be holding something in his hand. Something important. Something belonging to a girl.

Or a woman?

She has a sweet voice, he thinks.

And she finds him handsome.

Is it his mother?

She used to say he was handsome. A handsome little prince.

Or a sad little prince?

Does she know he misses her?

He can’t be her, though. It doesn’t _sound_ like her.

The voice is sweet, but he doesn’t find it really pleasant.

He loved his mother’s voice.

It makes him sad when he thinks about it.

The crocus is sad, too. On its own.

No. On _his_ own.

Jongin didn’t take good care of him. But the woman will.

She said not to worry.

So, why does he worry?

His mom loves crocuses. She would never hurt the sad one.

Hoseong arrives sooner that Jongin expected. He looks alarmed and as weird as it sounds in his head, it’s reassuring. Familiar. In the hazy mess of his thoughts, he can at least hold onto that.

“How are you feeling, Your Highness?”

“Confused,” Jongin replies, voice still just as hoarse.

“Changwook-ssi said it was to be expected,” the eunuch nods, kneeling by his side. “Your food will be here shortly. You can eat here.”

“H-help me up?” he says, trying to keep his sentence concise.

“Your Highness shouldn’t move too much. The wound on your head…” Hoseong says, eyes suddenly glistening. “We could see a little bit of your _skull_.”

Jongin winces at the mental image. But it explains the pounding headache.

He still pushes the blanket away from his legs and holds his hands out for the eunuch to take. Hoseong hesitates, before eventually complying.

“There was so much blood,” he continues, being overly cautious as he pulls the Crown Prince on his feet.

Glancing down, Jongin does notice the blood-soaked cloth on his pillow. Then, something else catches his attention. Lower on the white slipping mat, there is a weird little bundle. It looks like hair.

Did it detach from his head because of the wound?

There’s no blood on it, though.

“Let me help you walk, Your Highness.”

Tearing his eyes away, Jongin lets the eunuch holds his arm as he guides him to the main room.

“We were so relieved when Changwook-ssi assures us there was no bite mark on you,” he keeps rambling. “We were afraid your attacker was that snake hybrid woman.”

In the middle of the room, Jongin freezes. The words reverberate in his confused mind. And suddenly, it feels like a lever has just been pulled, raising the curtain of fog up.

Slit pupils right in front of him. Dark umber and golden scales.

The points against his neck were not wasp stingers.

They were _fangs_.

She dragged them along his skin. But she didn’t bite him.

Why?

“It _was_ her,” he croaks out.

_Don’t you worry._

She didn’t want to kill him.

She had other plans.

About someone else.

Who?

_I’ll take good care of him._

“It was?!” Hoseong says, sheer panic dripping from his voice. “How is it possible? How did she enter the palace?”

Is she mad Jongdae survived?

Is she about to finish what she started?

“We need to inform the guards!” Hoseong continues. “She could still be lurking around, waiting to come after you again!”

No.

Not Jongdae.

_He always seems to be lurking around you_.

_You reek_.

_You smell like him._

The voice is different. But the words mean the same.

_The Prince hurt his precious pet._

_That stray cat of yours._

“Your Highness? You’re shaking!”

_He is not mine. He is his own._

His blood runs cold.

“Kyungsoo…”

_Don’t you worry._

“Wh-what?”

_I’ll take good care of him._

Feeling like he has just fallen into icy waters, Jongin turns teary eyes toward Hoseong.

He sounds breathless when he speaks.

“She is going after Kyungsoo.”

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

He is flying down his pavilion stairs before Hoseong even has the time to process his words.

The bright sunlight hurts his eyes, making him feel even dizzier than he was earlier. But he doesn’t stop.

Mind going rampant, he doesn’t even know where he is headed to. He just knows that he needs to see Kyungsoo. To warn him. To make sure he is safe.

His heart is racing, and the more he aimlessly walks, the stronger his headache gets.

After a few minutes, he stills, frantically looking around and trying to locate himself.

The Banquet Hall, on his right. And the inner court, right ahead, at the end of the alley he stands in.

Jongdae’s pavilion is the closest. Kyungsoo might be with him.

He nearly runs into Eunha as he storms in his brother’s living quarters, and had it not been for her hands quickly wrapping around his elbows, he would have lost his balance.

Eyes widened, she barely has the time to ask him if he’s all right before he starts stammering, ignoring how wheezy his voice sounds between his gasps for air.

“Where… He… Is he…”

“Calm down, Your Highness,” she replies, concern replacing the surprise on her features. “Prince Jongdae is fine. I was on my way to visit you.”

“No. Not… Is… Kyungsoo… Is he...here?”

“Kyungsoo?” she asks, slightly raising her brows. “No. I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning. Why do you-”

Freeing himself out if her hold, Jongin is out before she can finish.

Yeonjoo. He could be with her.

The fog in his head is back, and he feels so lightheaded when he reaches his sister’s pavilion that he barely makes it up the stairs without tripping.

Seohyun’s mother lets out a scared yelp when he barges in, looking at him as if another head had grown out of his neck as he looks around. His words struggle to come out, frustration building in the pit of his stomach when she doesn’t seem to understand.

“Seohyun and Yeonjoo went to visit His Majesty,” she eventually answers. “But Your Highness should be resting. You were-”

Once again, Jongin has exited the room before her sentence ends.

He doesn’t find him in the domestics’ quarters, nor in the gardens. He leaves behind him alarmed-looking servants everywhere he searches.

His head is pounding, and his body feels heavy as his vision blurs. He doesn’t know what to do, or who to go to.

Back in the inner court and stumbling on his own feet, his eyes shoot all around.

He _has to_ find him.

His heart grants him a few additional beats when he believes he catches a glimpse of sunlight shining down on silver hair, far on his left.

The information is barely processed in his hazy mind that Jongin is already striding in that direction.

Kyungsoo is nowhere in sight when he reaches the spot, and Jongin whirls around, head snapping on every side, feeling a wave of nausea rising up in his throat.

He can’t lose him.

He never apologized.

Or never truly thank him.

He never told him he is the best thing that has ever happened to him.

He _cannot_ lose him.

He _cannot_ let him leave.

Leave.

He promised to let him leave.

As the memory hits him, Jongin gasps.

What if he left? What if he and his friend took advantage of Jongin being bedridden to run away?

Even if he didn’t see much of Kyungsoo in the past weeks, he usually catches glimpses of him every now and then.

He should have at least seen him, by now.

Except if he left already.

The North Gates.

Ignoring the ringing in his ears, he starts walking again. He needs to ask the guards if they saw the two hybrids, perhaps even let them pass.

They’re cunning. They might have pretended they needed to look for plants again, in case anyone gets bitten. The soldiers are aware of the new threat. They may have agreed, especially since the Crown Prince had just been attacked _within_ the palace grounds.

And somehow, as he sees the gates stands ahead, it’s hope that begins to grow in his chest.

Somehow, he _wants_ the guards to tell him they left. The two hybrids are fast, and if they ran away, they’re probably already far to the north, by now.

Even if she followed them, they’ll be with their tribe before she catches up. They’ll be able to defend themselves.

Before he can make it to the group of guards standing there, however, his eyes catch a familiar face.

In a flash, his heart sinks, shooting pain down to his fingertips.

There is surprise in his opalescent eyes, and it takes a few seconds for Suho to start heading toward where Jongin stands frozen.

“Weren’t you-”

“Why are you…here?” Jongin interrupts him, voice more akin to a whistle.

“Excuse me?”

He looks offended, for some reason.

“Why are you here?” Jongin repeats more urgently.

It doesn’t make any sense.

He left, right?

Kyungsoo told him how easy it would be, and they both left.

It can’t be him. Jongin’s mind is confused, and his vision is blurry.

He _must_ be imagining things!

Yet, it’s definitely Suho’s voice that answers him.

“I was _ordered_ to come to the North Gates’ surveillance post to help the guards,” the hybrid replies with an irritated huff. “But what are _you_ doing here? Shouldn’t you be-”

“Where is he?”

It does _not_ make sense!

“Where is who?”

“Kyungsoo!” he wheezes, his throat betraying him once more.

How can the hybrid be so calm, when Jongin’s own thoughts are such a chaotic mess?

And why is he frowning at him as if he were insane?

“Why are you asking _me_? I thought he was taking care of you.”

“W-what?”

The world is hazy around him, and the sun hurts his eyes, heightening the throbbing in his head.

“Last night… We heard something happened to you,” Suho says, talking a bit slower as if he were addressing someone suffering from hysteria. “He said he was going to check if you were all right. He left in a rush, and he didn’t come back, so I assumed-”

“She attacked me.”

“She?”

“The girl… Who hurt my brother…”

“Wait, wha-”

“He was right… She _is_ a snake… A hybrid… She attacked me. She was… S-she said… Kyungsoo… I… I have to find him...”

“All right. Calm down, you need to breathe,” Suho says, arms reaching out but not quite touching him.

“No! I need… I need to… He’s...”

His chest is burning, and he feels like his entire body is shaking.

He feels hot. But also cold.

The long-nailed hand is back around his neck, and he can’t get the air to reach his lungs.

“We’re going to look for him. But you have to _calm down_ first. You can’t help him if you pass out.”

She’s whispering in his ear.

_I’ll take good care of him_.

He couldn’t do it. He hurt him.

Her eyes glow behind his squeezed eyelids. Liquid gold, dripping along the scales.

He doesn’t like gold.

He hates it.

He wants the silver back.

Suho is speaking again, but the sound of his voice is covered by the ringing in his ears. Distorted.

He feels numb.

The world moves around him.

He wants to throw up.

He can’t breathe.

Then, his ears pop, and when he opens his eyes, he finds himself knelt on the ground, meters away from where he recalls standing. Suho is by his side, a hand crushed by Jongin’s fingers, and concern marring his face.

His body is tingling, blood pulsating in his fingertips. He feels heavy. Drained.

He blinks a few times, trying to get rid of the water droplets stuck in his eyelashes.

Is it raining?

He looks at Suho, a silent question gliding across his lips.

“They started looking for him,” the hybrid says in a calm, quiet voice, as if not to startle him. “Your two guard friends,” he adds when Jongin’s brows twitch in a brief frown. “You scared them a little. But I explained and told them I would stay with you until we could help them. I think they rounded up other guards to be more efficient. One of them talked to your army leader. They’re searching for her, too.”

 “H-how long… What…”

“Not too long. You went...somewhat rampant, and then you suddenly became completely quiet,” Suho says, looking at him as if he were afraid his explanation might trigger him. “Your knees gave up, you almost fell.”

“I’m...”

“Your friend said you have a head wound. It’s normal to feel confused. It happened to me, years ago. It’ll get better soon.

Jongin nods at him, wiping the sweat he feels dribbling down his nape.

“Do you think you can stand?”

Another nod and Suho gets on his feet before helping him up. The hybrid waits for a few seconds, making sure he doesn’t lose his balance.

“How about walking?”

Another nod.

“All right. Let’s go then.”

 

Despite his attempts to get them to split up, pointing out they’ll cover more ground that way, Suho categorically refuses. The hybrid sticks by his side, only shortly walking away to check inside the majority of the buildings they pass by, not trusting Jongin’s legs to handle going up and down stairs too often.

The more time passes, the more desperate Jongin grows. No one seems to have seen Kyungsoo since the previous night, no matter how many people they ask.

He wouldn’t have left without Suho, that much is certain. And by the time the sun has set, and every corner of the palace grounds has been searched in vain, they find themselves back near the North Gates, forced to come to the only conclusion possible.

“She took him,” Suho says in a strained voice. “Away.”

Remembering the advice the hybrid gave him hours ago, Jongin does his best not to fall into a state of panic again. Suho was right. He needs to think as clearly as his confused mind allows it if he wants to be able to help Kyungsoo.

“But...she had me,” he says, trying to get his jumbled thoughts to focus. “She could have killed me… Why- why would she go after him? It doesn’t...make sense…”

When he looks at the hybrid, his eyes are slightly squinted, the shadow of a frown creasing his brows.

“I know you’re not a hunter,” he continues, voice cracking at the end. “But can you...track people?”

“Of course. But I can’t smell her on you.”

With a frustrated huff, Jongin vaguely remembers Changwook telling him he and Hoseong had to bathe him to get rid of the blood. Her scent must have been erased then, as well. She didn’t spend enough time next to him for it to linger.

“ _Kyungsoo_ ’s scent is clinging to your skin. I can’t pick up anyone else,” Suho adds, making Jongin’s heart miss a beat.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he looks away, trying to hide how warm his cheeks suddenly feel with the stray strands of hair that escaped his topknot earlier.

Hair.

The memory snaps to the front of his mind as if it were previously lurking around, right behind the fog, just waiting for Jongin to remember.

“I have an idea,” he croaks out, earning a questioning look from Suho. “Come with me.”

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

They’ve been riding northward for three days when Jongin finally starts noticing the smallest improvements in his condition.

His head still hurts, and his thoughts still feel tangled, making it hard to coherently speak every now and then, but at least his throat, albeit still sore, doesn’t make him sound like a tumbrel with rusted wheels anymore.

The riding motions do induce some waves of nausea, but somehow, Daol always seems to notice it, judging by the way he slows down a bit whenever it happens. He even completely stopped twice when Jongin felt so lightheaded he almost let go of the reins.

Suho either rides behind him or runs by the stallion’s side, giving instructions on the direction to take and making sure they don’t encounter anyone on the way by keeping them off-road.

They left in the middle of the night, after packing a few things. With the increased surveillance, it had been a bit more complicated to sneak out than the time he did with Kyungsoo when they went to the festival, but they had still managed to leave undetected.

Jongin knows the stable boys only start working after the sun rises, so, by the time they must have noticed the stallion’s absence, he and Suho already had hours on any guard that would attempt to follow them. Even if they’re using the hounds to track them, he is almost certain they won’t catch up.

And even if they do, going back to the palace before he has found Kyungsoo is out of the question, anyway.

He will definitely get scolded and considered irresponsible for leaving and putting himself in danger, but he doesn’t really care. Regent or not, his priorities lie far away from the crown at the moment.

Right before taking off, he snuck into Seohyun’s pavilion and left her two letters. In the first one, he explained what he was planning to do, and told her that he was leaving her in charge until he came back. The second one, signed with his royal seal, was an official declaration of just that, should she need to take an important decision and meet objections from the ministers. It will serve as proof enough for them to concede. Or at least not to oppose her too strongly.

Jongin still expects to be welcomed with a whack on the head from her when he comes back.

He tries not to think too much of what might be going on at the palace, though. His mind has enough difficulties focusing as it is for him to clutter it with things he has no control on, or knowledge of.

 

The sun is rising on the fourth morning, and they have been riding for two hours already after resting for one when he feels Suho sigh behind him, breath hitting his nape and prompting him to briefly glance at him.

“Her track is clear,” the hybrid says, sounding somewhat bothered.

“Good,” Jongin replies with a nod, although deep down, he knows it’s not.

And as if to confirm his thought, Suho continues.

“She didn’t try to mask it.”

His tone is clearly letting the Crown Prince know that he came to the same conclusion, And when Jongin doesn’t reply, concentrating on directing Daol through the dense forest, the hybrid sighs again.

“It’s a trap, you know that, don’t you?” he asks, clutching Jongin’s hanbok harder when Daol jumps over a fallen branch. “She _wants_ you to find her.”

“I know,” Jongin merely replies in an impassive voice.

He did think about it for the past few days. Had she only wanted Kyungsoo dead, she could have managed to do it at the palace. Taking him away is a clear sign she was trying to get Jongin to come and get him. However, he still hasn’t quite yet found a plausible explanation as to why she would go to such extent. She had him. As much as it hurts his ego to admit it, he had been defenseless when she attacked him. And it would have been incredibly easy for her to end him right there and then.

It doesn’t make sense for her to lure him away to kill them both, when she could have done so days ago, without much trouble.

“But I won’t…let anything happen to him,” he adds, throat tightening.

“I know,” Suho replies, mimicking Jongin’s previously emotionless tone

“Can you smell him?” the Crown Prince then asks.

Suho told him, before they left, that even if they were to lose the girl’s track, he knew Kyungsoo well enough to detect his scent.

“On you, yes,” Suho answers with a rather bitter scoff, emphasizing his words by leaning a bit away from Jongin’s nape. “Out there, barely.”

“What does that mean?”

“Either that…” the hybrid starts, audibly hesitating. “…he was unconscious, and his body was unresponsive…”

“ _Or_?” Jongin urges, body tensing at the sheer idea of Kyungsoo being hurt enough to pass out.

“Or he thinks you-… _we_ might try to find him. And her,” Suho sighs. “And he is trying to leave as few clues as possible, so that we wouldn’t be able to.”

The painful jolt in his heart spreads down to his fingertips, and Jongin lets out a joyless chuckle.

“He’s clever.”

“Usually, yes. But in this case, I’d call that being _stupid_.”

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

“We’re close.”

It’s nearly dusk when Suho perks up behind him, one hand reaching out to grab Jongin’s arm and prompting him to pull on the reins so Daol would slow down.

He is not sure where exactly they are, only knowing the closest village they passed by is more than half a day’s ride away.

The landscape has been getting progressively starker since they exited the forest, hours ago, packed trees slowly giving ways to rocky hills and bleak plains. And judging by the cold gale blowing, they must have come close to the border with the Wild North’s lands.

“How do you know?” Jongin asks, eyes roaming around, trying to catch a glimpse of something, _anything_ that would indicate Kyungsoo has been here.

“Her scent is stronger,” Suho replies, tugging on Jongin’s arm to indirectly get Daol to slightly head east. “I can smell him too, now.”

Heartbeat picking up, Jongin taps his heels against the stallion’s flank, quietly enjoining him to increase the speed of his trot.

He feels like a hawk, flickering his narrowed eyes all around.

“Over there,” Suho breathes against his neck, hand appearing on the side of Jongin’s line of sight to point at a high and precarious-looking pile of boulders, right by a steep slope.

He brings Daol up to a canter, and the closer they get, the clearer he can hear the sound of a torrent downhill, raging as hard as his blood against his eardrums.

And when they finally round the rock formation, all it takes is one look before Jongin is dismounting the stallion after pulling hard on his reins.

The landing is messy, and his palms get scratched against the rocky ground, but he doesn’t care.

Getting on his feet, he bolts forward.

He keeps stumbling, feeling like his heart is about to burst out of his chest, but he doesn’t stop until he throws himself on his knees, right in front of Kyungsoo.

Covered in bruises and cuts, the snow leopard has a look of sheer panic contorting his beautiful face. But before he has the chance to say anything, Jongin has already curled his arms around his frame and snatched him in a tight embrace.

He is alive.

Jongin found him.

He is breathing, right there, against his neck, between his arms.

He arrived on time.

Leaning back, his hands come up to cup Kyungsoo’s face. His features are blurred by the tears welling in Jongin eyes. Thumb swiping across his cheekbone, smearing some fresh blood rolling from a cut above the hybrid’s brow, he lets out a pitiful sound, halfway between a sob and a chuckle, pressing their forehead together for a second before he is back cradling him against his chest.

Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move. He lets Jongin bury a hand in his silver hair, and guides his face in the crook of his neck.

He stays silent even when Jongin’s tears start falling on his collarbone, where his tunic has been ripped, showing more scratches crossing the symbol inked under his skin.

He is shivering, however, and when Jongin detaches himself again, he sees something strange in his expression. Something foreign he never saw before on his features.

Fear.

Hurried footsteps approach and Suho appears, rounding them both to crouch behind Kyungsoo. His hands start moving around his friend’s lower back, and only then Jongin notices Kyungsoo’s arms are weirdly angled, pulled back by the rope tightly wrapped from his elbows to his wrists.

This seems to snap the injured hybrid out of his stupor, and he suddenly starts speaking, the words rushing out as he frantically wriggles free from the loosened ties.

“Are you out of your mind?! What are you doing here?!” he hisses, pushing himself up and grabbing Jongin wrist to prompt him to do the same. “She can’t find you here. You need to leave. _Now_.”

“Not without you!”

For a second, a mix of anger and frustration twists Kyungsoo’s face, before he turns around and addresses Suho in the tribe’s language, seemingly scolding him.

His friend replies in the same irritated tone, pointing at Jongin who stands there, confused, fighting the urge to grab the hand still clutching his wrist.

“You’re hurt!” he gasps, only now noticing the large bloodstain right between his shoulder blades.

Whirling back around to face him, something flashes in Kyungsoo’s opalescent eyes, before he lets out a deep sigh.

“I’m all right,” he replies, shaking his head.

Then, the hybrid’s gaze flicker down, and Jongin sees his hand reach up, right before a thumb brushes against his throat. A shiver runs down his spine as he watches Kyungsoo oddly glare at his neck, fingertips tracing the bruises Jongin knows are still there.

“You have to go,” Kyungsoo says, dropping his arm back down after a few seconds. “It’s a trap. She wanted you to come here.”

“I’m not leaving you behind,” Jongin protests, his voice cracking at the sheer idea of abandoning him.

“Yes, you are!” Kyungsoo exclaims, grabbing hold of Jongin’s upper arm and shaking him a little. “She’ll be here soon, and she’ll know you were here. I’ll hold her back, but you have to _leave_. I can’t let you-”

Daol’s piercing trumpet reaches his ears just as Kyungsoo’s eyes suddenly bulge out, and the next moment, he feels something tackle him, sending him crashing on the rocky ground.

Winded and dizzy, he feels a hot breath against his neck right before the weight on him disappears.

Opening his eyes, he sees Suho rushing toward the two wrestling bodies. He is not a fighter, Jongin knows that much, but he still manages to shove her away from Kyungsoo, and the two snow leopards soon plunge on her.

In a chaos of hisses and growls, they tumble, entangled, and for long seconds, Jongin just stares, heart nearly breaking out of his chest.

Then, suddenly, the setting sun gleams on silver, and ruby glistens.

Through the ringing in his ears, he can’t recognize which of the two males just screamed, until Suho stumbles back and falls on the ground, a small blade sticking out of his thigh.

The red doesn’t come from him, though, and when Jongin’s eyes zoom in on the two other hybrids, he sees the blood soaking Kyungsoo’s tunic, across his chest, where the dagger left a long gash, going right through both clothes and skin.

A scream stuck in his throat, Jongin’s vision blurs, but without waiting, he stumbles on his feet and bolts in Daol’s direction. The stallion is more agitated than he ever saw him, and it takes way too long before his shaking arm manages to yank his sword out of the scabbard buckled on the side of the saddle.

Dashing back around the boulder wall, he glances to the side, where Suho is slowly pulling the blade out, face even paler and covered in sweat.

A loud growl makes his head snap to the left, and he knows he needs to do something, but the world is spinning around him, and the two figures are moving too fast for him to decipher who is where. When he finally catches her dark hair hovering above Kyungsoo, however, he doesn’t hesitate. Running forward, he wields his blade and strikes, a jarring scream instantly reverberating in the desolate land.

Red splashes, but he knows it’s not over.

Confirming his though, something suddenly smacks his head, and after another blow in his stomach, he finds himself pinned down to the ground, long nails digging in the skin of his shoulders through his clothes.

Memories flash in his hazy mind when the girl’s hand fastens around his throat.

“Isn’t it the sad little prince?” she taunts, locking their eyes together.

Thrashing under her, Jongin ignores her and extends his arm, trying to reach the sword that bounced away when she tackled him.

His nails are scraping the dirt, feeling the cold handle just a breath away from his fingertips.

“How adorable,” she coos.

He almost has it.

Just a little further.

“My master knew you would come to his rescue,” she says just as he feels the metal graze his index fingers.

Jongin freezes, widening eyes shooting into her amused ones. She seems pleased to have caught his attention.

“Our plan has worked so perfectly, it’s a little disappointing.”

His ears are ringing as he watches her pout, the fangs creating two bumps on her upper lip.

“He’s your weakness,” she continues in a voice soaked in feigned endearment. “It’s such a pity. You shouldn’t have come here.”

Nauseous, he feels his entire body shaking as she leans down to speak right in front of his face, drops of blood from a cut on her forehead falling into his eye and tinting half of his vision crimson.

“Your sentimental bravery will cost much more than both your lives.”

This time, when Kyungsoo rips her away from him with a wrathful snarl, Jongin remains on the ground.

Kyungsoo whirls around and crouches low on the ground, facing her and shielding Jongin with his body, his deep growl making his entire frame vibrate. His wrist is pressing against Jongin’s upper arm; voluntarily or not, the Crown Prince can’t tell, but when he suddenly leaps forward with a snarl, Jongin still doesn’t move, eyes lost in the grey sky as he tries to process her words through his jumbled thoughts.

Her master.

She is not acting on her own like they initially believed.

She has an accomplice.

An accomplice that is most likely at the palace, right this moment.

_Much more than both your lives._

And suddenly, it all seems to unravel in Jongin’s mind as he finally gets the answer to the question he has been wondering about for days.

_This_ is why she captured Kyungsoo. _This_ is why she took him away.

_This_ is why she needed Jongin to follow her.

Because by leaving without telling anyone, Jongin not only abandoned his family behind but also weakened the palace defenses by depriving them of the guards that inevitably came after him. She – and her master – knew he would come alone.

Albeit lethal, she is nothing but a distraction.

And everyone at the palace will be too busy worrying for him, that no one will realize the real threat is _inside_.

He doomed them.

Right as the realization hits him, Suho yells, and Jongin shoots up, spotting the hybrid who has dragged himself to the edge of the steep slope, leaving the blade, as well as a long scarlet trail, behind him.

He looks frantic. And Jongin understands why a couple of seconds later when he hears the loud splash echoing from _below_.

The next moment, Jongin is crawling on all fours in his direction, fear numbing his limbs and darkening his vision.

“He dragged her down with him!” Suho frenziedly shouts as soon as he hears Jongin approach behind him. “She was about to come for you, but he caught her and jumped over the edge!”

He has almost reached him when a deafening, blood-curdling scream pierces through the wail of the wind.

His heart sinks.

Kyungsoo.


	12. Chapter 12

Jongin is rushing forward before he knows what he’s doing.

Rocks are digging into his skin as he tumbles down the slope.

Everything is spinning, and he can barely breathe.

After a never-ending fall, his body comes to a stop, rolling one last time right on the edge of the torrent bank.

Dizzy, he struggles to get on his knees.

He is not sure if it’s the cold, the pain, or the terror coursing in his veins that makes his teeth chatter as he scrutinizes the turbulent stream.

Coming directly from the Wild North’s mountains, the water is icy when it hits his face in violent sprays. Amongst the foam, and with the sun now completely gone, he can’t see any sign of Kyungsoo, so, with silent sobs repeatedly cramping his abdomen, Jongin starts crawling downstream.

The more he scrapes his hands on the rocks, the bigger bloody handprints he leaves on the rugged, slippery surface.

He is freezing by the time he finally hears an unusual splash, soon followed by grunts and hisses. In the dark, he barely has the time to catch a glimpse of Kyungsoo before the girl is pushing his head under the surface. Their bodies keep being dragged by the boiling waters, and Jongin follows on the bank on all fours, choked noises erupting out of his throat.

Tears are troubling his vision, and the longer Kyungsoo is stuck underwater, the tighter Jongin’s chest gets, slowing him down, making him break into loud sobs.

He stills when he sees the girl’s head abruptly sink under as well.

Convulsively gasping for air, he forces his body to keeps going, dragging himself closer to the water.

Until suddenly, the foam turns scarlet.

His heart stops.

He sees a body coming up to the surface. Floating. Carried away by the churning flow.

Through the tears, Jongin can’t recognize _who_ it is, and without thinking, he lurches forward, hands sinking first in the icy water.

“Jongin, no!!”

Like a lightning strike, the shout of his name stuns him, pinning him down where he lies, arms elbow-deep in the torrent, face splashed by the rumbling stream.

His head snaps to the right, and he gasps when he spots him, clinging to a rock in the middle of the rapids. The strong current is crashing on his back, ramming him against the granite again and again.

His face is contorted in pain and fear as he frantically shakes his head. There’s too much red tinting the froth around him, continuously flowing from his shoulder.

Impulsively, Jongin digs the tip of his boot in the ground and pushes himself forward a bit more, when two voices yelling at the same time stop him.

“Don't!”

The next moment, Suho is leaping in the water and fighting the current to reach Kyungsoo.

It takes the hybrid agonizingly long seconds to bring him back to the bank, and Jongin has to compel his body to _move_ and help them escape tempestuous flows.

Fingers clutching at Kyungsoo’s ripped tunic, he roars as he uses all his withered energy to drag him on land, before pulling him in his arms.

“What were you thinking?!” he croaks out, gasping hysterically, cheek pressed against the coughing hybrid’s drenched hair. “You could’ve died! Why did you do this?!”

“Am I not supposed to protect you?” Kyungsoo replies, voice so horse and feeble it pushes Jongin to lean back to look at him.

“Not if you risk being killed!”

The weak chuckle Kyungsoo lets out turns into another wet, gurgly cough, proving Jongin right by showing, inter alia, that he almost drowned.

“We need to bring him back up,” Suho intervenes, in a somber tone. “Now.”

The hybrid’s eyes are staring at something right beside the hand Jongin has pressed on Kyungsoo’s trembling shoulder. Following his gaze, all the relief inside him seems to vanish in a flash.

A few centimeters away from the crook of his neck, gushing crimson liquid in a constant flow and already haloed in fast developing bruises, are two painfully unmistakable puncture marks.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Feeling numb, Jongin is doing his best to calm Daol down and bring him back toward the two snow leopards. He has wandered away during the whole ordeal, and the Crown Prince decided to task himself with finding him when he saw Suho grab the girl’s dagger.

_To drain the venom out_. That’s what Changwook had said.

He would’ve stayed by Kyungsoo’s side, but he knew the hybrid would need to be brought to someone who could help, as fast as possible.

By the time he comes back, Suho has taken off Kyungsoo’s tunic and is pressing it against his shoulder, where surely lies two long gashes.

“I need dry clothes,” he says without even looking at Jongin, focused on keeping Kyungsoo shielded from the cold wind.

Without a word, Jongin complies and grabs the ones he packed for himself, handing them to the hybrid with shaky fingers.

“Do you… Do you know the plants?” he asks, kneeling next to Kyungsoo to help. “To neutralize the venom,” he adds when Suho glances at him confusedly.

“Not all of them. But there’s no vegetation around, we wouldn’t find them anyway.”

“We can’t bring him back to the palace. It’s too far. He won’t...”

“No, we can’t,” the hybrid replies, still as sternly.

Mind whirling faster than the rapids, Jongin presses the heels of his palms against his temples, trying to get his thoughts to stay coherent.

Even if Kyungsoo were miraculously still alive after the days it would take to go back to the palace, no one would be able to cure him there. Changwook saw the hybrid prepare whatever he gave to Jongdae, but Jongin is almost certain he wouldn’t be able to do it himself.

And considering the location of the bite, and how weak he already is, Jongin knows he needs someone to help in the next few hours.

So, with a shaky exhale, he looks up at Suho.

“How far is it from here?”

“How far is what?”

“Your tribe,” he says. “He needs his father’s medicine.”

“We had just settled near Sinjae’s border when I left. We needed to get supplies from the northern villages. They might still be there.”

“How long will it take us to get to them?”

For some reason Jongin cannot fathom, Suho looks baffled as he stares at him in silence, before a weak grunt from Kyungsoo prompts him to reply.

“If we ride fast enough, we’ll reach them by sunrise,” he says, earning a wide-eyes, panicked look.

Considering the position of the moon, that would mean roughly ten hours.

“That’s… He won’t…”

“We don’t really have a choice.”

After a few seconds, Jongin eventually nods, before glancing at Suho’s injured thigh.

“Can you run?”

“I’ll manage.”

“All right. I’ll take him with me on Daol. You lead the way.”

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

In the dark, the terrain gets more and more hazardous as they progress through the mountains.

They passed the border between Yangkwang and the Wild North around an hour ago. Suho assured him this would be both the quickest and safest way, as he would follow the paths he took when he came looking for Kyungsoo. The only obstacle would be the thin layer of snow already covering the ground, despite autumn only beginning two weeks ago.

They’re in the midst of rounding one of the sky-piercing peeks, when Kyungsoo, seated in front of him, lets out a pained moan, head tilting back and landing on Jongin’s shoulder. Instantly, his right hand releases the reins, arm curling around the hybrid’s waist to prevent him from tipping over to the side.

Jongin lowly calls Suho as he brings Daol to a stop.

“What’s wrong?” the hybrid worriedly says, jogging back toward them.

“He just needs a minute,” Jongin replies quietly, not wanting to talk too loud so close to Kyungsoo ear.

Without another word, Suho grabs the water gourd tied at the back of the stallion’s saddle, removes the cork, and hands it to the Crown Prince.

Trying to keep his balance on the horse’s back while supporting Kyungsoo’s upper body against his chest, Jongin slowly helps him drink with murmured encouragements.

With his arms on both sides of Kyungsoo’s middle to hold the reins in front of him, Jongin has been feeling the snow leopard shiver more and more during the last hour, waves of cold sweat drenching the Crown Prince’s jeogori and soaking it in blood in various places.

Giving back the gourd to Suho, he then uses his sleeve to delicately dab Kyungsoo’s neck and face.

“We’ll be there soon,” he whispers, heart in his throat when he hears the terrifying rattle-like sound coming out of the feline’s chest. “Your father will take care of you… You’re going to be all right, I promise.”

Parting his lips, Kyungsoo starts attempting to say something, only to be immediately hushed by Jongin.

“No, don’t. Don’t talk. Save your energy,” he murmurs, gently adjusting his hold around the hybrid’s waist. “I’d like your animal spirit to stay where it is, all right? Let’s not have Azjhekaala believe She needs to find another body for it.”

His heart pangs when Kyungsoo weakly chuckles, his eyes still shut as he lets his head slowly roll on Jongin’s shoulder so that his temple rests against the Crown Prince’s cheek.

“You learned...how to...pronounce...her name,” he says in between wheezy breaths.

He just disregarded his advice, but  Jongin can’t stop the little broken laugh from escaping his mouth as he nods ever so slightly.

“I practiced,” he whispers, smiling when, even in the dark, he sees Kyungsoo’s lips faintly curl up. “How is my accent?”

“It could...need...some improv-...ment.”

“Then you need to recover,” he says, blinking the tears away. “So that you can help me.”

“All right…”

“I didn’t get your name right, though. I tried, but I don’t think I remember it correctly.”

“You...don’t have...to,” the hybrid says as a shiver runs down his spine, vibrating against Jongin’s chest. “Kyung...soo...is fine.”

_You’re wrong_ , Jongin thinks.

The name might be, but Kyungsoo himself is anything but all right.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Growing up, Jongin has never given too much thoughts about the existence of a higher power that could influence the mortal realm in any kind of way. He read many books glorifying an ideology that was all about righteousness and self-cultivation.

It was not until Kyungsoo talked about his tribe’s beliefs that he started questioning the philosophy he lived by, without yet really straying from it.

But at this moment, as he pulls on Daol’s reins to get him to stop right after seeing Suho halt his run, he realizes there _has to_ be something, somewhere, capable of wonders that could only be attributed to a divine force.

Because it’s nothing less than a miracle that Kyungsoo is still breathing when three silhouettes emerge in the distance, right ahead of them, silver hair softly glowing in the dawn light.

He’s weak, entirely relying on Jongin to support his body on the horse’s back. But he is _alive_ , regardless of how slow and irregular his heartbeat is.

As the three people begin jogging toward them, undoubtedly recognizing the scent of both Suho and Kyungsoo even from afar, Jongin starts trying to dismount Daol without letting go of the barely conscious hybrid. He allows Suho to assist him but immediately tugs Kyungsoo back against him as soon as he has both feet on the snow-covered ground. Supporting most of his body weight with both arms wrapped around his middle, Jongin is too focused on the hybrid’s face, searching for any sign of pain, that he doesn’t see what is coming before it happens.

It goes too fast for him to react, and before he knows it, Kyungsoo is torn out of his hold as a hand collides with his chest, violently shoving him away.

Stumbling back, he tries to catch his balance, a protest stuck in his throat as his widened eyes look up.

With Kyungsoo clasped against his inked chest, the tall, bulky snow leopard hybrid is glaring at him with an intensity Jongin has never seen, tail bristling, and a low and threatening growl vibrating deep in his rib cage.

“What did you do to him?” he roars, words accented familiarly.

His black-rimmed opalescent eyes are burning, defying him, daring him to take a step forward and give him a reason to attack. Next to him stands a lean female hybrid with braided silver hair falling down to the back of her knees. She is not looking at the Crown Prince, too busy roaming frightened eyes and fretful hands on Kyungsoo’s face, whispering words Jongin doesn’t understand. The third hybrid is young, probably in her early teens. She, however, is blatantly staring at him, seemingly more intrigued than hostile with her ears cutely perking up and her tail lightly swaying.

It’s not hard to see the flagrant resemblance between their faces, and he has gawked at Kyungsoo often enough to know his features by heart. The similarities are obvious; he knows exactly who they are.

With a tap on a muscular shoulder, Kyungsoo’s mother breathes a few words to his brother, gesturing at him to let her hold her injured son. Without breaking the fierce eye contact, he obliges with careful, protective movements.

When Kyungsoo’s legs almost give up, Jongin doesn’t think, and instinctively steps forward, hands already reaching out to catch him. He is instantly met by a loud snarl that only subsides when Suho rushes to stop Kyungsoo’s brother from charging as Jongin stumbles back again, startled.

He freezes, however, when Kyungsoo’s weak voice blends with Suho’s whispered words, catching everyone’s attention. Secured in his mother’s arms, and a hand held by his youngest sister, Kyungsoo is looking at his brother through barely opened eyes, feebly shaking his head after breathing out a couple of words in the tribe’s language.

When the tall hybrid’s glare zooms back on Jongin, Suho intervenes once again in a louder voice. Jongin doesn’t understand a thing, but as the hybrid speaks, he can see Kyungsoo’s mother’s and sister’s features grow successively frightened, surprised, then baffled, before their eyes settle on him, full of confusion.

His brother still looks suspicious, but his stance is less threatening, making Jongin think that whatever Suho explained must have been positive enough for the hybrid to postpone ripping his throat.

“It is true?”

Eyes shooting to the side, Jongin blinks at the young girl, whose arms are pressing her fluffy tail against her chest as she looks at him questioningly.

“Wh-what?”

“What he say before,” she replies, briefly glancing at Suho. “It is true?”

“I don’t… I don’t understand your language,” Jongin tentatively says, glancing at them all in turns before looking back at her when he catches Kyungsoo’s brother’s still present glare.

Her big, round eyes keep staring at him, head slightly canted to the side, and he holds her gaze until Kyungsoo suddenly lets out a pained moan.

Pain spreading from his heart down to his fingertips at the broken sound, Jongin has to fight with all his willpower the urge to rush to him. Fists clenched by his thighs, he bites the inside of his cheek, feeling suddenly angry when his brother steps in front of Kyungsoo to hide him from his line of sight.

“It is,” the sister says, and although she is smiling, she looks and sounds oddly saddened by whatever she just had confirmation of.

Jongin wants to ask and understand, but he knows Kyungsoo’s time is rapidly running out, and even though the whole interaction barely lasted a few minutes, they still wasted enough time as it is.

So, taking a shaky breath and gulping down, he decides to speak up.

“You have to take him to your father,” he says, opting for addressing the girl since she at least didn’t show any signs of animosity against him. “He has been bitten by a mamushi hybrid. We came here as fast as we could, but...he’s still bleeding, and I don’t… I just-...”

“By _what_?” Kyungsoo’s brother growls, once again getting stopped by Suho.

“I’ll explain later,” the hybrid says, thankfully in Korean this time. “The Crown Prince is right. We need to bring him back now.”

None of them seems surprised at the mention of his title, hinting that Suho might have already revealed it when he spoke earlier, but his words do have the desired effect.

The next moment, Kyungsoo’s mother is breathing out what sounds like instructions, and Jongin sees the three others immediately spread out.

Soon, a makeshift litter is being assembled, small branches being woven together by three pairs of fast working hands. Feeling uncomfortable just standing there, Jongin turns around and approaches Daol, who had been patiently waiting a few steps behind. He grabs the water gourd and the thin blanket he used to cover Kyungsoo as they rode, before cautiously walking back toward the small ground, making sure not to come too close to his brother, who keeps scowling at him every now and then.

Kyungsoo’s mother has seated her younger son on a nearby rock, holding his upper body against her with a protective hold.

Crouching in front of him, Jongin looks up at her, silently waiting for her permission. Before she can give it, however, a knee collides with his shoulder and make him tip over with a gasp, hands dropping the two items in surprise to prevent his head from sinking in the snow.

He can’t help but glare at the tall, scoffing hybrid, who has already carried Kyungsoo away and started lying him down on the finished litter.

It feels like his own time is running out as well.

Soon, he will have to leave. His own family needs him, and he knows he can’t stay, but as another weak moan reaches his ears, he finds himself wanting to follow them instead.

Getting up on his feet and picking up the blanket, he marches toward Kyungsoo, only stopping and glaring back when his brother steps in front of him with a low growl. He is surprised, however, when the young girl grabs her older brother’s hand and tugs him out of his way, softly whispering a few words. But not as surprised as when he sees him actually comply, although not without a resigned sigh.

“ _Our leaders are always women_ ,” Kyungsoo had said, so long ago.

Clearly, no matter how young they are, women’s words are indeed greatly valued and respected in their tribe.

Offering a small smile to the girl who gently returns it, he takes a few more step forward, before kneeling in the snow by Kyungsoo’s side.

With careful movements, he drapes the blanket on the hybrid, heart lodged in his throat when he sees him turn exhausted eyes in his direction.

He looks so frail and vulnerable, pallid skin covered in sweat and matted hair sticking to his face. He is shivering so hard it almost seems like he could to break into convulsions at any moment.

He looks like he is dying.

Because he is.

Fighting back the tears blurring his vision, Jongin slowly leans down without truly realizing it, until their forehead are lightly pressed together, nose touching and breaths mingling. Kyungsoo is burning up, and Jongin closes his eyes when a silent sob cramps his abdomen.

This is not a goodbye.

It cannot be.

“You better survive,” he says, voice cracking even though it’s barely above a whisper. “You’re not allowed to die, understand?”

Kyungsoo’s shaky exhale fans across his lips and chin, and had Jongin not been so close, he wouldn’t have heard him when he replies a quiet and weak “All right.”

“And one day...” Jongin adds, choking on his words. “One day, I’ll come back for you…”

Jongin knows the three others are listening, no matter how softly he speaks. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t hear the tall man’s faint growl, the woman’s melancholic sigh, or the girl’s quiet sniffling.

Like suspended in time, everything around them disappears as all his senses focus on Kyungsoo and the warmth he exudes. 

His earthy smell invades his lungs when he inhales.

Jongin absorbs it all, soaks in everything the hybrid makes him feel, carving deep in his memory every single detail about him.

He already misses him.

“I’ll find you again…” he murmurs, lips only a breath away from Kyungsoo’s own. “I promise.”

For a few floating seconds, everything is silent, and Jongin remains still, holding his breath.

Until his heart leaps in his throat when Kyungsoo moves.

The nod is feeble and slow. But somehow, it feels like less of an answer than a way to softly brush the tip of their noses against each other as a quiet purr vibrates in his chest.

Squeezing his lids shut even tighter, Jongin swallows down his tears, and crosses the ridiculously small distance, until his mouth touches Kyungsoo’s burning one.

He couldn’t tell whose breath hitches as he lightly presses down, lips ever so slightly parting to catch Kyungsoo’s upper one.

He tastes like sweat and pain.

Jongin’s chest clenches, heart pulsing in his throat as he fights back another sob.

Almost imperceptibly, Kyungsoo pushes back, trembling lips adjusting to capture Jongin’s bottom one as his purr gets louder, and something breaks inside the Crown Prince’s soul.

He doesn’t want to go.

He doesn’t want to leave him.

He can’t do this on his own.

He doesn’t want to do this without Kyungsoo.

But when a small hand gently lands on his shoulder, he knows he has to let go.

So, slowly, he detaches himself from the trembling hybrid, and accept Kyungsoo’s mother’s reached-out hand. She helps him to get on his feet, a saddened smile floating on her lips.

“Thank you,” she says so quietly he barely hears her.

Sniffling, he gives her a stiff nod, fighting against himself not to look back at Kyungsoo. He merely exchanges a look with Suho, before turning around, closing his eyes as he hears the two male hybrids lift the litter.

Numbed, Jongin stumbles in Daol’s direction and climbs on his back with rigid movements.

The tears have begun rolling down his cheeks, although he is not sure when. His heart is pounding, blood whooshing against his ears.

Everything fiber of his being is screaming at him to stay. To follow them.

To keep Kyungsoo by his side.

So Jongin harshly pulls on the reins, forcing the stallion to turn around, away from the group. And with a tap on his flank and a choked out order, he prompts the horse to start moving.

The freezing wind is hitting his face, biting where the tears cling to his skin.

But the cold spreading throughout his entire body has nothing to do with that.

Another order and Daol is galloping.

Jongin still doesn’t look behind him.

The ice keeps spreading inward, crawling in his veins and slowly hardening his blood.

It reaches his chest, petrifying his lungs, creeping deeper.

His eyes remain ahead. He can’t let himself turn around.

He’s too scared he would abandon everything and run back to Kyungsoo, grab him and never let go.

So he keeps going, waiting.

And when the ice finally touches his heart, covering it in frost until it crystallizes and explodes, Jongin abandons the shards behind.

One day, he’ll come back for it.

One day, he’ll find it again.

One day, moonbeams, earth, and silences will mend it back together.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Chaos.

This is what Jongin finds when he rides through the North Gates, followed by the six guards he stumbled upon on his way back.

He has barely dismounted Daol near the stables that he catches sight of Taeil running in his direction.

The news falls on him like an ax on firewood.

The King is dying.

Poisoned, it seems, according to Changwook who found traces of virulent toxins in the remedies the Royal Physician had prescribed to His Majesty after his return. They believe it was part of the so-called supplies he had left the palace for, weeks prior.

Seohyun ordered the old man to be arrested days ago, but no one has been able to find him.

“We believe he fled the palace as soon as he heard his scheme was discovered,” Taeil tells him as rapidly head toward the Throne Hall.

“Did my sister send guards off after him?”

“She...she tried,” Taeil says, sounding suddenly more hesitant. “Her Highness wanted to, and even got some of us volunteering,” he adds, clearly including himself in that group. “But Minister Nam didn’t...approve.”

Shaking his head, Jongin can’t hold back a sigh. That surely was a polite way to say the Minister of Defense had been contesting the authority Jongin had given to Seohyun, most likely not without throwing some disrespectful comments about how women shouldn’t be allowed to take decisions, especially concerning military affairs.

But he would have to deal with the man later.

The Throne Hall is in disarray when he passes the large doors, bureaucrats and ministers talking and arguing among themselves as Seohyun futilely tries to make herself heard.

Jongin has barely taken a step in when he hears the first gasp. Soon, dozens of shocked faces are turning toward him as a heavily charged silence falls in the large room.

It is not surprising, considering how he looks at that moment. Disheveled hair and worn features, his hanbok is covered in dried up blood from when he held Kyungsoo against him during their ride to the Wild North. Of course, they can’t possibly know it’s not his, and he feels terrible when he sees Seohyun blanch and nearly trip down the throne pedestal as she rushes toward him.

“Find Changwook-ssi,” she exclaims to no one in particular, not even bothering with apologies when she bumps into a few old men, pushing her way through to reach him.

Someone leaves with hurried footsteps just as she stops in front of Jongin, widened eyes glistening and shaky hands reaching out, yet not touching him, as if she were afraid to accidentally hurt him.

“What happened to you?” she asks in a choked, frantic voice.

“Calm down. I’m all right,” he says, trying to be as reassuring as he can. “The blood is not mine. I’m-”

“What do you mean it’s not yours?!”

“Noonim, _calm down_ ,” he repeats, grabbing both her hands. “I’ll explain everything.”

“Your Highness, we have urgent matters to discuss with you!” Minister Gwon intervenes just as Seohyun opens her lips to reply.

“It was extremely rash of you to leave the palace like you did.”

“What if something had happened to you?”

Gradually, the room fills up with voices, disapproving comments and outraged exclamations, and Jongin presses a hand against his temple as the sound makes his ears start ringing.

“Such desertion is unacceptable.”

“Leaving the palace without any proper leader!”

“His Majesty would not tolerate this behavior!”

“How inconsiderate must you be to risk the kingdom safety?”

“Could you leave us for a moment, please?” Seohyun asks them, holding Jongin’s hand tight as she tries to cover the din.

“ _You_ should leave now, Princess.”

“It is not a woman’s place to speak in such matter.”

Blood suddenly boiling, Jongin’s eyes shoot open, glare directed at the two bureaucrats facing them.

“You will show my sister the respect she is due,” he hisses between gritted teeth. “I let her in charge while I was away. Should I find out any of you disregarded that order, you will be charged with treason,” he continues, not intending to do so, but knowing it might at least get them to behave. “Is that clear?”

Any other day, he might have found it amusing to see them all with round eyes, bowing as they mutter apologies to both him and Seohyun. But laughing, or even smiling is the last thing he wants to do, at that moment.

“This will be all,” he tersely declares. “Everybody, out.”

“But Your Highness, we-”

“ _Out._ Now.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

 

“Where is Yeonjoo-ya?” Jongin asks as soon as he and Seohyun are finally alone in the room, seated on the throne pedestal.

“Don’t worry about her. I left her with Princess Eunha. They’re in Jongdae’s pavilion,” Seohyun quickly says. “Now, explain. What is all this?” she adds, vaguely pointing at the large bloodstain. “Whose blood is it?”

“I think you should start,” he counters. “Taeil briefly explained, but...what happened?”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” she sighs, closing her eyes for a few seconds.

“What about you tell me about the Royal Physician,” Jongin suggests. “Taeil didn’t give me many details.”

“He came back two days after you left,” Seohyun says, her voice clearly showing how disgusted she is to even mention the old man. “He was quite shocked to find out what had happened to Jongdae. Or at least, he pretended to be,” she adds with a sardonic scoff. “He asked who had healed him, and he seemed genuinely glad to learn about Kyungsoo’s remedy. He even asked to talk to him, and I thought… We _all_ thought he perhaps wanted to know more about it.”

With a shake of her head, he knows she must be feeling terrible for not seeing what was right in front of her eyes. She couldn’t have known, really, but he can’t fault her for feeling guilty.

“I talked to him in private, and I explained why you and Kyungsoo were gone,” she continues. “I thought I could trust him… I never imagined what would happen a couple of days later.”

When her voice starts to waver, Jongin instinctively takes her hand back into his and offers her an encouraging smile.

Taking a deep breath as if to give herself some courage, she then proceeds to explain how the King’s condition had improved, to the point of being able to stand on his feet, albeit shakingly, and to take a few steps around his room, aided by the Royal Physician.

Their father had called for both her and Jongin, and demanded to know why exactly he had heard about his daughter being in charge. When she did explain, to her surprise, the King had not seemed as furious as she had expected, looking more disappointed, although not with her.

“I could see he was exhausted, so I decided to let him rest,” she says, a slight frown making its way between her brows. “Before I left the room, though, he mumbled at me to be careful. I didn’t understand, but he fell asleep before I could ask.”

Regrettably, she never had the chance to, because the next day, his improving condition had plummeted without any reason, getting even worse than it had been the first time he collapsed.

Everyone was worried, even more so because of Jongin’s absence. He might have temporarily put her in charge, but if anything were to happen to the King, Seohyun remained unfit to ascend the throne. And with Jongdae still in recovery and no knowledge of the Crown Prince’s whereabouts, chaos had spread rather fast.

“The Royal Physician stayed by Father’s side almost all day long, tending to him,” she says, her hands tensing in Jongin’s own. “No one explicitly said it, but we all assumed he was trying to keep him alive for as long as possible. Until you’d come back…if you ever did.”

It was apparently the next day that Changwook came to find her and asked to talk to her in private. He explained that, as he was looking for the Royal Physician’s herbarium, he had found odd-looking plants, and curiosity taking the best of him, he had ended up making a shocking discovery. The plant was lethal if ingested in its raw state, and there were traces of it in the vials containing the King’s remedies.

“Of course, I sent guards to arrest him right away,” she assures him as if she wanted him to know she really did her best. “But he was gone. I don’t know how he found out, or when he left. He was just...gone.”

“So it was him,” Jongin absentmindedly says, more to himself than for her to hear.

When she gives him a questioning look, however, he sighs.

“The snake hybrid girl, she-” he starts, before getting interrupted by rapid footsteps.

“You asked to see m-... Your Highness!”

Jongin almost chuckles when he sees Changwook’s face contorts in pure shock after spotting him next to Seohyun. He looks alarmed as well, undoubtedly by the blood covering his hanbok.

“Yes,” Seohyun replies with a nod. “Come here, please, Changwook-ssi.”

“I’m all right,” Jongin says as soon as the apprentice has closed the distance, his eyes still widened as he stares at the Crown Prince’s chest. “I was told you played a major part in exposing the Royal Physician’s treachery. I want to thank you for that.”

“I- I only did what was right, Your Highness,” Changwook replies with a bow. “But I do begrudge myself…for not noticing sooner.”

“Don’t. You couldn’t have known,” Jongin says, shaking his head. “Tell me more about my father’s condition,” he adds after a short pause. “How bad is it?”

“I-... Really bad, Your Highness. The poison is nothing like I ever saw before,” the apprentice says, looking baffled. “Pangi fruits can usually be consumed after being steeped or roasted. It comes from the Dutch East Indies, and I know locals use the seeds and leaves in medicine for its antiseptic properties. But only externally, like to sterilize wounds or treat skin parasites.”

“…What happens exactly when it gets ingested without prior preparation?”

“It contains prussic acid, which is...deadly, Your Highness. Even with an antidote, there might be severe damages on His Majesty’s mind. But that’s not all,” Changwook says, fidgeting on his feet as looks at Jongin tentatively.

“Tell me,” the Crown Prince encourages him.

“The crushed seeds were mixed with something else. Something just as lethal, creating a highly unstable concoction. It must have taken months to perfect...most likely using test subjects,” Changwook says, gaze falling down with furrowed brows. “I’m afraid His Majesty won’t survive much longer. But the wrong antidote could cause an even premature, sudden death.”

“By any chance...could that other thing by mamushi’s venom?”

Seohyun gasps just as the apprentice’s widening eyes shoot up, realization flickering in his irises.

“It- It could, Your Highness.”

“How did you…” Seohyun starts, voice trailing off.

With two pairs of eyes staring at him questioningly, Jongin sighs.

“The hybrid,” he says. “She’s dead. But she did have the time to mention she was not acting by herself. She has... _had_ an accomplice. A master, as she worded it. I believe this is how she got inside the palace before she attacked me.”

“Do you think it was…”

“The Royal Physician, yes,” Jongin nods to Seohyun. “Think about it, he just so happened to be on a so-called supply run when the attacks happened. He left right before she came after Hyung-nim, and came back only two days after _I_ left. And then, coincidentally Father got worse.”

“But-”

“It was a trap, Noonim. She took Kyungsoo away because they _knew_ I would go after him. They wanted me out of the way. Out of _his_ way. You know I never trusted him.”

He sees Seohyun’s features change as she slowly understands, her free hand coming up to hide her lips.

Of course, she knew of his wariness. Her own husband had passed away because the old Physician had been unable to cure him. Even Seohyun had almost died as well.

For all they know, before he collapsed, the King’s slow sickness could have been provoked by the Royal Physician.

And Jongin’s mother, His Majesty’s favorite, what if the man had let her die on purpose?

“But why would he do this?” Seohyun asks.

“That’s what we need to find out.”

Glancing at Changwook, he finds the man with a pained expression pulling his face. He can’t blame him, of course. He had come to the palace months ago to study under the Royal Physician’s mentorship. Discovering the man is a traitor must undoubtedly be upsetting.

However, he is surprised to hear the apprentice focus on another detail when he eventually speaks up.

“The girl… Is Your Highness certain she is dead?”

“I am,” Jongin nods. “Why?”

“What about Your Highness’ hybrid?”

Heart hitching and throat clamping, Jongin swallows down with difficulty.

“He was bitten after saving my life,” he shakily says, hearing yet another gasp from Seohyun as she tightens her hold on his hand. “I brought him back to his tribe. His father will take care of him.”

It’s panic that suddenly twists Changwook’s expression, and Jongin stares at him confusedly, before it finally clicks in his mind.

If the poison had indeed mamushi’s venom in it, with the snake hybrid dead, unable to provide a sample for an antivenom, and with Kyungsoo gone, taking his knowledge with him, Changwook now has no way of curing the King.

“We need to find the Royal Physician,” the apprentice says, voice wavering. “He will be the only one able to prepare an antidote for that _thing_ he created.”

“We will,” Jongin says, trying to sound more confident than he feels. “The threat is gone from the palace, so I’ll send guards after him. Meanwhile, I want you to take care of my father. Get as many people and resources as you need to help you. He is your priority, understand?”

“Of course, Your Highness,” the apprentice instantly agrees with an eager nod.

“All right. Go, then. I’ll visit him later,” Jongin adds. “I have things I need to take care of, first.”

After bowing to them both, Changwook hastily leaves the room. Jongin turns back to look at Seohyun, whose eyes are glistening as she stares at the ground.

Softly, he reaches out and let his thumb brush the lone tear rolling down her cheek.

“We’ll find him,” he insists in a gentle tone when her eyes flicker up toward him. “I promise.”

The words pull a sad chuckle out of her lips.

“You didn’t promise me anything since you said you would find my favorite doll when you were seven.”

“Areum,” he says with a faint chuckle of his own.

Despite the meaning of the name she had given it, the silk doll was anything but beautiful, in Jongin’s young-self mind, but even now, he can still remember how obsessed Seohyun used to be, and how inconsolable she had been when she lost it.

“I did find it, though, didn’t I?”

“Well, in three parts, but yes, you did,” she says, recalling the poor state of the doll after it had been mysteriously torn apart. “You always keep your promises,” she adds, almost in a whisper.

Heart panging in his chest, Jongin returns the gesture when she squeezes his hand, trying his best to smile back.

He wishes this were the truth.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

“He is confused, most of the time. Almost delirious,” Seohyun says as the three siblings stand in front of the King’s bedchamber. “He barely makes sense when he speaks.”

Adjusting his hold around Jongdae’s middle, Jongin nods at her, mentally bracing himself for what he will find behind the doors.

He had initially planned on visiting the King on his own.  But after washing up and having a heated conversation with the ministers, during which he had made clear he far from appreciated them going against his order about Seohyun, Hoseong informed him that, during a moment of clarity, His Majesty has requested to see his three children.

So, after briefly talking to the military commander and making sure he would dispatch as many guards as possible to find the Royal Physician, he had made his way to Jongdae’s pavilion.

Seohyun was already there, Yeonjoo clinging to her as she spoke to Eunha. Jongin had then been _scolded_ by his niece for leaving without telling her, and he might have laughed, had her eyes not been gleaming with unshed tears. He took a few minutes to comfort her, before telling them they were awaited, and he ended up surprising everyone when he told Wonchul he would help his brother to get to the King’s living quarters.

Or at least, everyone but Jongdae himself, who simply offered him a smile, glassy eyes turning into thin crescents.

 

The King indeed looks in an even worse shape than he was a few weeks ago, and Jongin can’t prevent the shiver running down his spine when he sees him. If not for the way his tired and sunken eyes flicker toward them as they slowly cross the room, he would’ve not even seemed to be alive.

It smells horrible, a rancid combination of vomit, sweat, and something else he can’t pinpoint but makes his stomach heave before he can stop it.

Perhaps this is just what death smells like, right before it comes.

He can’t be sure. He wasn’t by his mother’s side when she passed away.

Two young physician apprentices are there, as well as a nurse. They bow before exiting the room, briefly informing Jongin that His Majesty has been raving for most of the day, sometimes speaking as if he thought he was still only a child, or even seeing surreal things with an invisible shadowy monster and imaginary people.

“Changwook-ssi said delirium is one of the symptoms of prussic acid poisoning,” Seohyun whispers as if she were afraid their father would hear.

Kneeling by his side, however, Jongin knows he won’t. He doesn’t even seem to realize they’re here, busy mumbling to himself so low they can barely make out the words.

“Father?” Jongin calls, getting nothing more than a flinch in response.

“You requested us to come,” Seohyun says hesitantly, and going just as unnoticed.

“What is he saying?” Jongdae quietly asks, slightly leaning forward as if to hear better.

“I’m not sure.”

“Something about a horse?” Seohyun says, sounding confused. “And a green _sseugae chima_.”

Just as baffled, Jongin starts leaning in to, when his father’s eyes suddenly widen and lock with his own, startling him.

“I loved her!” the King exclaims in a hoarse voice, making the three of them jump. “I _loved_ her!”

Feeling uneasy, Jongin slowly reaches out to pat his father’s hand with a gentle shushing sound, only for his fingers to be frantically grappled.

“You took her away!”

Flinching, Jongin stares at the man, stunned to see tears glistening in his dark eyes.

Could he be talking about his mother? Does he think Jongin is responsible for her death?

“Father, why?” the King then exclaims, voice cracking. “Why must you be so cruel?”

“Does he think you’re-”

“Have I not always been a good son?”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Jongin lets out a shaky exhale. It’s disturbing to see him like that. Weak, vulnerable, stripped bare from his ego and dignity.

Nothing remains of the haughtiness; he merely looks like a defenseless child pathetically begging to be reassured and consoled.

Jongin doesn’t know what to say, or if he is even supposed to say anything. But before he can figure that out, the King has already averted his eyes, back breathing out muddled words to himself.

“He looks so much like her… I didn’t know… I never knew…”

“Father? Do you hear me?” Seohyun tries again in a quiet tone, hand tentatively reaching out to brush away the tear rolling down the King’s wrinkled temple.

“I couldn’t deny him…”

“Who is he talking about?” Jongdae asks, turning his head toward Jongin.

“Father forced her to leave… I hate him... ”

“I don’t know,” Jongin whispers, unable to look away from their father’s wild expression.

He looks entirely gone, deep in his own world, where they cannot reach him.

“She hates the cold!”

“Perhaps we should go,” Seohyun says, adjusting the blanket over his chest.

“The babe must be cold too... In the shadows…”

With a sigh, Jongin nods at her. He is about to rise on his knees, when once again, dark eyes are capturing his own, making him flinch.

“I think she ended up loving him,” his father says, sounding so heartbroken that he can’t help his chest from tightening.

With the glance he throws toward Seohyun, he finds her looking just as helpless as he feels. So, with another sigh, he looks back at the King and delicately retakes his hand.

“I’m… I’m sure she’s all right,” he says in the most reassuring tone he can muster.

It feels like walking in the dark, having no idea who this is even about, but it seems to work, somehow, judging by how the King starts nodding, the corner of his chapped lips curling as his eyes fill up with more tears.

Seconds later, he has already looked away, back in his befuddled state.

It’s disorienting, but Jongin still feels somewhat relieved now that he seems calmer.

“The little girl is sweet,” the King then says, voice quieter. “And the boys are strong… Their souls are pure...”

It takes a few seconds for the three of them to realize who he is now talking about.

“They’re scared of me… I tainted them… But I don’t know how to love them...”

Closing his eyes, Jongin hears Seohyun poorly holding back a choked sob, blending with Jongdae’s shaky exhale.

“She’s always there,” the King continues, unaware of the impact his words just had on the sweet girl and the strong boys. “But she’s never here… Always in the shadows… And the wind…”

“Please, can we go?” Seohyun breathes out, voice painfully cracking.

“I think he knows...” their father mumbles to himself, definitely gone far away from them. “And they will know… I don’t want the crown… Not like that… Not if I can’t…”

So, with another sigh, Jongin agrees and stands before helping Jongdae’s up on his shaky legs.

When he returns to his living quarters a few hours later, Jongin is still haunted by the memory of his father’s empty eyes suddenly coming to life as he saw things that weren’t there.

The visions vanish, however, when the doors close behind him, and he finds himself in complete silence. His chest tightens, making it hard to breathe as every emotion he has done his best to repress all day long suddenly come back to hit him like a tidal wave.

Eyes squeezed shut and teeth sinking in his cheek until he tastes blood, Jongin breathes in and out, again and again, compelling his mind to gather every single feeling crushing his heart.

Then, slowly the memories of iridescent eyes and silver hair begin to darken.

Glowing skin, earthy smell, warm voice; one by one, he locks them away, somewhere deep and hidden he won’t allow himself to reach until the time comes.

And when he goes to bed, later that night, his eyes don’t even turn toward the end of the hallway.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

His plan to keep Kyungsoo out of his mind ends up being momentarily obstructed when he visits Jongdae, the following afternoon.

No matter how much Jongin tries to divert the conversation on something less hurtful, his brother seems determined to talk about the hybrid.

“Has Changwook brought your medicine yet?” he asks, after both his question about Eunha miserably failed to change the topic.

“Not yet,” Jongdae quickly says, before once again shaking his hands, making the necklace looped around his fingers clatter as the tiny bones rattle against each other. “Did you know only the hunters from the tribe wear those?” he asks, earning a resigned sigh.

From what he understood, Wonchul found one of Kyungsoo’s necklaces in the domestics’ quarters some time ago and told Jongdae, who in turn got curious and requested to examine it.

It seems like despite telling Jongin they had been all thrown away months ago, the domestics had kept at least one.

“No, I didn’t,” he begrudgingly says, giving up on rerouting the discussion.

Jongdae might have learned how to focus on his four remaining senses, but he clearly couldn’t read his brother’s mood.

Or maybe he just doesn’t care.

“They’re very important. They show their strength,” Jongdae explains. “They add a part from each prey they take down by themselves. Usually a piece of bone or a tooth.”

A shiver runs down Jongin spine when he looks down and watches his brother roll a large canine between his index finger and thumb. He can still remember the young hybrid girl telling him the four necklaces were _loaded_ with bones and teeth.

“Being one of their best hunters, he had quite a few.”

Jongin hums as only reply, looking away as the locked memory of the little bones stuck in Kyungsoo’s human ear tries to resurface at the front of his mind.

“Their tattoos have meanings too!” Jongdae continues, sounding excited.

Focused on pushing the memory back down, the words come out of Jongin’s lips before he even knows it.

“You saw them?!”

Kyungsoo’s tattoos were mostly hidden under his clothes. Why would he have ever needed to _undress_ in front of Jongdae?

Brows furrowed, it takes a chuckle from his brother and a glance toward his milky eyes to realize what he just asked.

“He described some to me,” Jongdae says, clearly amused by how mildly irritated the younger had sounded. “All symbols, swirls, and lines have a different meaning,” he continues when Jongin doesn’t reply. “Courage, wisdom, honor, patience, forgiveness, clarity, and so on. They get them throughout their entire life. The tribe holds a ceremony every single time,” Jongdae explains, awe painting his tired features. “Not all of them get the same, though, except for a few symbols.”

As much as Jongin would like to remain interested, he can’t prevent his curiosity from being picked. He suspects that Jongdae purposefully finished his little speech on an enigmatic note to get him to react, and he has to reluctantly admit to himself that it worked.

“Which ones?” he asks, nonetheless trying to keep his voice as neutral as he can.

The beam his brother offers him ends up confirming that his feigned indifference utterly failed.

“When one of them reaches eight years old, the coming-of-age ceremony is held,” the elder quickly explains, visibly enthusiastic about sharing his knowledge.

Or perhaps just about having a conversation with Jongin.

“This is when they choose their own name and get the symbols of the six elements inked along their spine.”

“Six?” Jongin asks before he can help it.

He only knows of the fivefold of the _Wu Xing_ cycle. Wood, fire, earth, metal, and water are supposed to be the five phases structuring the cosmos. He has never heard about an additional one.

“Yes,” Jongdae nods. “Metal and wood aren’t part of their elements. Instead, they have air, as well as the deity they worship.

“Azjhekaala?”

“Yes!” Jongdae exclaims, looking happily surprised.

“What about the sixth one?”

“Their animal spirit,” the elder says. “It’s different for each of them, of course, yet they view it as a whole. They consider it as the central element, both tying the others together and revolving around them,” he continues, cloudy eyes narrowed in concentration. “It’s a really intricate concept. He tried to explain as best as he could, but I don’t think any human could fully grasp everything it implies. Or anyone outside the tribe, actually, human or not.”

“Mmh.”

“The specific symbol for their animal spirit is usually drawn by the hybrid receiving it, in correlation with the meaning of their chosen name,” Jongdae continues. “If She blesses that name, they receive additional tattoos, the very next morning. Two symbols, right under their collarbones, depicting the Moon and Sun, linked by three interlaced lines that represent the protection of not only the moon and the sun, but also their deity.”

“You two apparently conversed a _lot_ ,” Jongin says, voice sounding somewhat grumpy even to his own ears.

His tone seems to amuse Jongdae, however, if his chuckle is anything to judge by.

“We were working on improving his Korean,” he says with a nonchalant shrug that ends up making him wince. “He wanted to speak properly before you’d come back, and having him talk about something important to him seemed the best way to get him to talk at all.”

“I guess,” Jongin sighs, keeping to himself a comment about how Kyungsoo never seemed to be reluctant to talk to Jongdae.

It used to feel like a never-ending battle to get him to say anything in the Crown Prince’s presence.

At least, for the first few months.

After that…

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jongin shakes his head, willing away the images of Kyungsoo’s hovering over him after they fell, alarmed voice urging him to talk and tell him if he was hurt.

“...Jongin-ah.”

“Mmh?”

“Can I...trust you with a secret?”

Brows furrowing, Jongin eyes his brother. His tone is cryptic enough to let him know whatever he wants to tell him about is probably not something he disclosed to anyone else.

“Sure…”

Hesitantly, Jongdae starts shuffling on his slipping mat, ending up seated with his back facing Jongin. His hands reach up under his hair, before he pulls the long, dark locks in front his right shoulder, exposing his nape and instantly earning a gasp from the younger.

Jongin gawks at the pale skin, widened eyes tracing the small black spiral crossed by a short diagonal line ending in two dots.

“What-... Is it _real_?!” he exclaims, sliding closer to get a better look at the tattoo.

He had seen some of the youngest domestics use coal and draw similar patterns to Kyungsoo’s ones on each other. But this one looks too neat, and he gasps again when Jongdae rubs his fingertips on the skin, and the symbol doesn’t get smudged whatsoever.

“I asked him to do it.”

“This is… Did anyone see it?” Jongin asks, slightly panicking.

“No one except Wonchul. He helped me to hide it,” Jongdae says before letting out a quick chuckle. “I think Princess Eunha might know, too.”

When Jongdae faces him again, his sheepish expression pulls a deep sigh out of Jongin.

“What were you thinking?” he asks, although his voice lacks resolve. “You could get in trouble.”

“It’s not like Father can do much to me, now,” Jongdae declares with an oddly serene shrug. “And I believe the future King won’t hold it against me… Will he?”

With a click of his tongue, Jongin remains silent for a moment, before sighing again.

“Just keep it covered.”

“Don’t you want to know what it means?” the elder then asks, voice slightly teasing.

“Should I be scared of what you asked for?” Jongin jokingly counters, earning a smile.

“No. Kyungsoo chose it himself… He said this is the symbol for _Sight_ ,” Jongdae tells him, clearly trying to hold back a laugh.

Jongin, however, lets his own chortle echo in the room as he shakes his head, genuinely amused at the reminder of Kyungsoo’s witty sense of humor.

“It’s supposed to represent the ability to...see beyond what your eyes can,” Jongdae explains. “But, I don’t know...I rather like the irony.”

“So do I,” Jongin says, laughing again and earning a broad smile before the silence falls back in the room.

The atmosphere shifts after a moment, turning somewhat oppressive, and he sees Jongdae lick his lips before speaking.

“Will he...will he really be all right?”

A pang in his chest sends a painful wave down Jongin’s fingertips, and he blinks a few times to get rid of the sudden stinging feeling in his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he replies, the words coming out strained.

“…Will _you_ be?”

“I think I never truly was… Not until he happened.”

With a nod, Jongdae reaches out and pats around until he finds his hand. And when he laces their fingers together, just like the younger used to do when he was only a toddler and Jongdae sang to him, Jongin holds onto it with all his might.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

“Will you walk with me?” Princess Eunha asks him with a smile the next morning after crossing his path in the inner court.

Jongin is a bit surprised, not only to find her here when she seems to spend an awful lot of time in Jongdae’s company, but also not to see any of the court ladies usually following her.

He is on his own as well, just coming out of a meeting with the ministers, following the return of the guards sent to find the Royal Physician.

They came back in the middle of the night, and Jongin had been woken up by a frantic Hoseong, who informed him that his presence was requested immediately in the Throne Hall. When he eventually stumbled in the vast room, mind still fogged with sleep, it had been to find Taeil in the middle of an agitated discussion with Minister Nam. Their faces did not bode well, and he hurriedly headed over to them, adjusting the messily tied gonryongpo around his body.

“Your Highness!” Taeil had exclaimed as soon as he spotted him.

“What is going on?”

“We… We found him, Your Highness.”

Eyes bulging out as his heartbeat sped up, the words had woken him up instantly.

“Bring him here,” he had ordered. “Now.”

“I-... I’m afraid I can’t, Your Highness.”

“Why not?”

“...We found his _body_ ,” Taeil had said, clearly nervous about how his answer would be received. “He was dead, stranded on the river bank, south to the palace…”

Like ice cold water had been poured on him, Jongin had stood frozen, his heart stuck in his throat.

“Did he have any belonging on him?” he asks, voice wavering, foolishly hoping the old man could have still been carrying an antidote, somehow.

“I’m sorry,” Taeil replies, shaking his head, words feeling like a blow in Jongin’s stomach. “We searched up and downstream and combed through the surrounding area, but there was nothing at all. Not even a sign he might have stopped to rest at some point.”

“All right,” Jongin had ended up nodding after composing himself. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” the guard had said with a bow. “I-... I am truly sorry,” he added after a brief hesitation.

“You did well,” Jongin had merely replied, trying his best not to let his façade crack in front of all the officials present in the room. “Go get some sleep.”

Jongin had then sent Hoseong to inform Changwook of the situation, urging the importance of his task. He _needed_ to do something.

But Jongin wasn’t stupid. Both threats may now be gone, he still knew they had just lost the only one who was truly able to cure the King.

Jongin’s last string of childish hope had died the moment the Royal Physician’s heart stopped beating. Now, no matter what they’d do, the King would die. And Jongin would take his place, inheriting a crown, a throne, and an entire kingdom.

The impromptu meeting with the ministers and bureaucrats had lasted until early morning, but by then, the news had already spread throughout the awakening palace. He hadn’t been surprised to see the terrified glances everyone stole in his direction as he headed over his living quarters.

He was too numb to really care.

However, as Eunha stands in front of him and patiently waits for him to reply, the look on her face is calm. It’s a nice change, so, despite how drained he feels, Jongin nods, and tiredly returns the smile she offers him.

He doesn’t say anything when she delicately loops her arms around his elbow, simply walking toward the gardens and trying to ignore the alarmed eyes following them.

“They want to hold it sooner,” she says without preamble a few minutes later.

“Hold what?” Jongin asks, too exhausted to unscramble the vague information.

“Our wedding.”

“Let me guess,” he says with a breathy scoff. “Is this yet another thing you heard even though you weren’t supposed to?”

“Possibly,” Eunha replies with an innocent shrug.

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised,” Jongin huffs out, once again too tired to even really care. “My father’s state is...concerning. They won’t let me ascend the throne before marrying.”

And considering the news they had gotten earlier, they might speed things up even more.

“And you are still planning on going along with that,” she says, more as an affirmation than a question.

“I don’t have much choice,” he shrugs.

“You do,” she instantly counters, before correcting herself. “Or you did. And you _chose_ to come back.”

It’s not hard to figure out what she’s implying. She knows where he was, and why he had left. He could’ve _chosen_ not to come back. He could’ve run away and remained with Kyungsoo.

Or so she thinks.

Maybe hoped, even. Because even though she tried to hide it, he was still able to hear the hint of disappointment in her voice. He knows why, of course, but by respect, he decides not to mention it, not wanting to put her in an uncomfortable position.

So, Jongin scoffs instead.

“As surprising as it might sound to you, I care about my family,” he says. “And I care about this kingdom.”

“I know you do,” she replies without hesitation, yet with the shadow of a teasing smile. “You may not be the friendliest man to ever walk this land…but you do have some good things for yourself. And loyalty is one of them.”

“Be careful,” he playfully warns her. “Or I’ll begin to think you genuinely want to marry me.”

“Oh no! Am I that transparent?” she exclaims, bringing her hand in front of her lips as she fakes consternation.”

“Very much so, dear Princess.”

“Then I shall leave you and atone for my improper behavior,” Eunha dramatically declares, earning a chuckle from Jongin.

“Atone? Is this word truly part of your vocabulary?”

“What a poor opinion Your Highness has of me. I just complimented you!”

“And criticized me right before,” he points out with a smirk. “I’m merely surprised you haven’t caused more problems at the palace.”

“Who said I didn’t?” she challenges, briefly wiggling her brows.

“What have you done?” he asks, hardly even surprised.

“Not much,” she shrugs. “And it did _not_ deserve being forbidden to enter the Royal Kitchen until further notice.”

The laughter bubbling in his chest comes out without him trying to hold it back. She might be mature for her age, but every now and then, he catches a glimpse of the youthful soul hiding behind all that wisdom.

“You really are going to bring me trouble,” he says, shaking his head as he smiles down at her.

“What will Your Highness do about it?” she asks with a chuckle of her own. “Send me back home? In all honesty, I would rather be exiled in the Wild North than going back to my family. Even if I absolutely despise cold weather.”

Jongin knows she said that as a mere joke. But somehow, he still feels the need to let her know this is not something she will ever have to worry about.

“You told me once you wouldn’t have been my first choice, among your sisters,” he begins, looking at her and finding her brows raised. “But for what my opinion is worth to you...I’m glad your eavesdropping talent brought you here.”

“Now _I_ am going to think you want to marry me,” she laughs, although he can hear his words have had an impact.

“I do think I am fortunate you’re the one I’m betrothed to.”

The blush tinting her cheek as she quickly averts her gaze is enough to tell Jongin he accurately conveyed his thoughts. She is welcome here; appreciated, as well. And no one will send her back in that family who had only ever made her feel unwanted.

“And I will make sure not to invite you, whenever I need to visit the northern villages,” he adds, to bring back the lighthearted atmosphere.

“Loyal _and_ considerate,” Eunha instantly plays along. “My future husband never ceases to amaze!”

“If you ask nicely, I could even grant you back the access to the kitchens,” he jokes, earning a delicate giggle.

“Forgiving as well? I truly feel blessed.”

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

His conversation with Eunha does have the merit of helping him to go through the rest of the day with a lighter heart.

Jongin holds on to the thought of having someone to rely on in difficult times, keeping her jaunty and charming behavior at the front of his mind when he visits his father, later in the afternoon.

Changwook is absent, once again. Jongin hasn’t seen him in two days, but Hoseong told him the Royal Physician’s office door has been locked all this time, and that he had heard faint clatters and groans coming from inside. Jongin feels bad for putting such a heavy burden on the apprentice’s shoulders. But he can’t let himself give up, even if it means asking Changwook to perform a real miracle to bring back the hope of an entire kingdom.

He doesn’t linger very long by the King’s sides, unable to bear the delirious mumbling and the teary-eyed looks his father sends him as he keeps seeing things that aren’t there. Jongin doesn’t know who that woman he speaks of is, but he figured out she might have been someone he loved long ago. Perhaps even still loves, now. It feels weird, as if everything he has always known about his father turned out to be lies.

He has quickly figured out it wasn’t about his mother. The King might have loved her, in a way, likely because she had given birth to the Crown Prince. But hearing how he talks about that woman, Jongin feels like he must have been _in love_ with her, and having her taken away from him seems to have irrevocably broken him.

Maybe this is where the imaginary monster he sees comes into place, lurking in the shadows with its crooked smile. Maybe this is what happens to a disturbed mind when it can no longer keep the painful memories at bay.

Before exiting the room, Jongin makes sure to properly thank the apprentices and nurses tending to His Majesty, then heads over to his own living quarters.

He indulges Hoseong when the young man nearly pleads with him to eat his dinner, not wanting to stress him out more than he already seems to be, and doesn’t object either when the eunuch informs him he will stay right outside of his pavilion that night, in case he needs anything.

Much like every night since he came back to the palace, his tired mind drags him into the darkness as soon as his head hits the pillows.

But something is wrong, this time.

One moment, he is lying down in complete silence, and the next one, the light surrounding him is way too bright as he runs. Stunned by the sudden change of scenery, Jongin trips, and topples forward, falling on the snow-covered ground.

The valley is desolated, and all he can see is white all around.

Where is he?

What is he doing here?

On all fours, he whirls around when he hears a whisper behind him.

His mother’s amber irises are glowing through the curtain of snow rapidly descending from the bright sky. She’s looking at him tenderly, and Jongin smiles, soothed.

But then, their color darkens, and fills the entire eyes, slit pupils taunting him right before something sharp pierces the skin of his neck.

Jongin curls on himself, falling on his back and writhing in the snow as a wave of pain spread throughout his body.

When the eyes vanish, so does the pain, leaving him drained and unable to get up.

The snow quickly starts covering him.

His father is there, looking down at him. Jongin is cold, but the sadness in his father’s eyes is making him feel even colder.

There is a woman next to the King. Jongin can’t see her face, but he can hear her voice softly shushing the naked and crying newborn in her arms.

“He’s cold,” she whispers to no one before she begins to sing a lullaby Jongin has never heard.

He wants to cry as well, but he is not sure why.

Something is weighing on his stomach. He glances down and finds a giant snake tangled on itself. He can see crimson glistening on its golden scales and covering its exposed fangs as it hisses.

_Play dead_ , Jongin orders himself.

He forces his heart to stop beating.

It’s not enough, though, and the incandescent umber eyes snap to meet his own. When they do, the blood on the reptile turns to liquid silver, and suddenly, Kyungsoo is there too, crouched on Jongin’s left, his nose scrunched in disgust as he stares at the snake.

_Play dead_ , Jongin wants to tell him.

It’s too late, though. One whoosh of air and a hiss later, Kyungsoo is lying inert on the snow, lifeless eyes forever riveted on Jongin.

The baby screams. Or maybe Jongin does.

He can’t be sure, because then, the woman starts to leave. His father turns away from him and looks at her as she walks away, falling on his knees, one hand reaching out.

_Look at me,_ Jongin wants to cry. _I’m here. Help me._

But his voice is stuck in his head, and he remains silent.

Through the blizzard, a tall, dark figure appears, coming to stand menacingly by his father’s side. The King’s voice is broken when he sobs a harrowing “Why?!”

_Help me_.

The snake has started to wrap itself around Jongin’s middle, constricting him. He can barely breathe, now. Its head slides up his torso, slowly, until a tongue flicks against Jongin’s ear.

Kyungsoo is gone, leaving behind a silver stain on the snow.

The liquid begins gathering, solidifying, and turns into chains that all at once latch around Jongin’s wrists and neck.

He wants to call for help, but his father and the tall figure have disappeared as well.

His body is entirely under the snow, now. Only his face remains on the surface.

The snake’s head snaps away, something catching its attention, and it stars slithering off of him.

Jongin sees her just a few moments before the reptile attacks. Shivering in the blizzard, she looks like a frozen flower. She shouldn’t be here. She said she hates the cold.

He wants to warn her, but it’s already too late. The snake strikes, and she drops on the ground, an ear-piercing scream carried away by the wind.

Someone needs to help her.

But Kyungsoo is gone, his blood keeping Jongin prisoner under the snow.

Eunha is still screaming. The baby is screaming too.

The woman’s voice joins them, and so does his father’s.

Why are they all screaming his name?

The dark figure is back, approaching him with measured steps. It’s not as tall as it was before, but he still can’t see who it is, even when the person looms right next to him.

The screams stop, and a deafening silence falls, so thick it presses against his eardrums as if he was underwater.

The silhouette crouches, hovering above his nearly buried face.

Its voice is disembodied when it speaks, muffled by the snow surrounding his head.

“Sad, sad little prince,” it says. “Don’t you hate the cold?”

Gasping for air, Jongin abruptly sits up, the darkness in his bedroom disorienting him.

White spots are dancing in front of him as he keeps trying to breathe, heart racing and head pounding.

Just a nightmare.

This is what he would like to convince himself of.

But he can’t.

Because he saw them. Right before jolting awake.

A pair of very familiar brown eyes, mocking him from above.

Eyes that used to comfort him.

He has been wrong all along.

The Royal Physician had nothing to do with all that happened.

But how is he supposed to protect his family, now, if his own brother is the one who betrayed them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chances are, you figured that out way before Jongin did if you paid attention to details.


	13. Chapter 13

He feels like his heart is about to burst out his chest.

Frantically flipping the worn out pages, Jongin is futilely doing his best to keep his hands from shaking too much.

It _cannot_ be real.

He already checked the finance records he had had to read over months ago, as well as much older ones, randomly picked on the shelves. In each of them, without exception, he found the same amount of money sent to a person whose name was never disclosed.

Not even once.

The only tangible information he was able to find was where they live.

Dangju, a small village not far from the Wild North’s border, according to Hoseong.

How can this be happening?

So, Jongin grabbed the population census records from Dangju, dating from two decades ago, tossed it on the dust-covered table and started turning the pages, not even caring when some got wrinkled or torn off.

It can’t be real. He has to be wrong.

He briefly glances up when he hears Hoseong let out an exclamation from the other side of the room. Hidden behind all the tall shelves, the eunuch is rummaging through the palace residents’ records after Jongin asked him to find the personal information collected earlier this year.

Deep down he knows.

But he needs to be sure.

He needs to see the words written down.

Because although he can feel in his guts that his suspicions are right, Jongin can’t help but hope he is mistaken.

Still flipping through the pages, he sees Hoseong appear by his side, an open journal in his hands. Mimicking the Crown Prince’s movements, he swiftly turns the pages again and again, until another exclamation comes out of his lips.

“Here! It says he was born in Dangju, Your Highness,” he says, sounding hesitant.

Stomach painfully clamping, Jongin feels his eyes starting to burn.

It can’t be true.

It _has_ to be a coincidence.

It can’t be anything other than a nightmare.

His finger slides on the edge of an umpteenth page, leaving small bloodstains on the few next ones, as his eyes fly across the ink-covered parchments.

He trusted him.

It can’t be real.

He _cannot_ have been betrayed like this.

Not by him.

Jongin turns another page and suddenly freezes.

There it is, the information he dreaded to find.

Neatly written in the middle of the yellowed page.

Twenty-eight years ago, a recently married couple arrived in Dangju. Both the man and the woman were born and raised in Sokdong, a southern village Jongin knows is located right above Yeosan’s border.

Heart sinking, he lets out a shaky exhale, unable to avert his eyes from the line right under.

They had no child.

But the woman was expecting, in the early stage of her pregnancy.

He is not mistaken.

It _is_ real.

How did he not see it? How did he not understand earlier? How did he not connect all the dots?

It took a playful banter with Eunha for his subconscious to finally unravel the whole situation and throw it at his face in a horrendous nightmare.

He has been so stupid.

Everything was right under his nose all along, but he remained utterly blind.

_“She hates the cold_.”

Those were the King’s words, so similar to what Jongin had heard long before.

How did he not see through all the lies?

_He_ had openly told Jongin his mother had been exiled to a village up north, even adding her hometown was near the palace.

_“Father forced her to leave_ ,” the King had said.

The woman was expecting.

“ _The babe must be cold too…_ ”

Jongin feels like he can’t breathe.

“ _I inherited my mother’s looks._ ”

“ _He looks so much like her_. _I didn’t know_ ,” his father had whispered.

Of course he didn’t. And Jongin has known the reason all along.

“ _I discovered he used to visit her, sometimes. Yet...he never asked to meet me._ ”

Every single detail was served to him on a plate.

And yet, he ignored all of them.

Indulging in self-pity, he overlooked the world around him and even pathetically clung to the very one who had been deceiving him from the start. That _monster_ must have rejoiced so much when Jongin asked him to stay.

“ _He just kept sending her money from time to time._ ”

This is where the money has been going during all these years.

“ _The nobleman… His father was anything but happy about it. An illegitimate grandson, born from a married woman. The daughter of a farmer, on top of that._ ”

And this is why the name has never been disclosed in the financial records.

The nobleman wasn’t _just_ from a wealthy family. He was the _Crown Prince_ , back then.

And his father, the King at that time, Jongin’s _grandfather_ , had sent the pregnant woman and her husband away, giving up money in exchange for their discretion. Or silence, rather.

Hoseong is panicking next to him, words rushing out of his lips, but Jongin doesn’t hear them through the ringing of his ears.

The more details spurt in his mind, interlacing with each other, the sicker he feels.

Is this why his father had traveled to the north right before his birthday? He never went during winter. But that woman… The woman he _loved_ … She must have been dying at that time.

He must have found out, and promptly left, hoping to see her at least one last time.

“ _I couldn’t deny him…_ ” the King had said.

Because of her, Jongin realizes.

He might have never met the child, nor wanted to, but if he loved her as much as Jongin concluded, he likely couldn’t bear to refuse to take their son in after she passed away.

The knowledge in modern medicine had only been a pretext. He can remember how odd it had seemed coming from his father, to request the three siblings to dine with him, and to introduce a mere apprentice to them.

But by trying to trick his children, the King had ended up being deceived himself.

Changwook had planned this all along. And all too well.

The King might have been sick before, but his condition had gotten worse after Changwook arrived. This surely couldn’t be a coincidence.

Was he actually the very real crooked-smiled monster his father was seeing?

He was the one who supposedly found the poison in the Royal Physician’s belongings.

Oh, how convenient.

He even pretended not being able to cure Jongdae after he got bitten, feigning panic, and pretending to wish to resign from his post later that day. And Jongin had _reassured_ him and told him he needed him to stay. Because he trusted him, and he felt like he couldn’t lose him just when he was about to let Kyungsoo go.

He had looked so surprised when Jongin had come back alive, and just as shocked to find out Kyungsoo wasn’t dead either.

But not nearly as troubled as when Jongin had told him the snake girl had been killed.

It had nothing to do with being saddened to discover his mentor had betrayed the royal family. Nor with the guilt of not figuring it all out sooner.

Instead, this is why Kyungsoo hadn’t been able to recognize the scent on the apprentice. Snake hybrids were supposed to be extinct. He had never smelt one before.

Yet, this was precisely what, or rather _who_ had marked the man.

_Changwook_ was her Master.

The Royal Physician had been nothing but a decoy. He framed him, probably even killed him himself.

 

Taking a deep breath, Jongin closes the book, dust flying in the candlelit room.

He is not mistaken.

Changwook is the traitor.

And blood brother or not, Jongin is going to make him pay.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Pacing in the Throne Hall under dozens of anxious pairs of eyes, he still can’t believe how foolish he has been.

Of course, his first reaction had been to storm in the Royal Physician’s office, where Hoseong had previously assured him Changwook was.

But when Taeil had broken the door open, they had found the room completely empty.

Jongin had stood there, eyes roaming around in disbelief, before ordering the entire Pharmacy building to be scoured. Deep down, he knew they wouldn’t find him. He had tricked them all too well to linger around now that the truth was out.

He had still attempted to find something in the room, going through all the vials and journals, despite knowing the man would’ve never left shreds of evidence behind.

Alerted by noises coming from the small storage room, they had ended up discovering one of the younger nurses, tied and gagged. She was weak, having been trying to call for help for _two days_ , and upon hearing that, Hoseong had nearly fainted, realizing she was the source of the sounds he had heard.  
Between sobs, she managed to tell them that she had stumbled upon Changwook right as he was about to flee. And wanting to make sure she wouldn’t tell anyone, he had locked her in there.

He may have even planned that the muffled noises she’d make would lead them to assume he was toiling hard in order to find a cure for the King.

Anger rapidly building, Jongin’s composure had eventually broken during the official, yet secret meeting that had followed, after it became clear the apprentice was gone. Met with an unbreakable wall of objections every time he so much hinted that he planned on going after the man, he had ended up stomping out of the room in a fury.

And three days later, they all seem just as opposed as they previously were, despite knowing the King is getting worse by the hour, breaking into episodes of convulsions more and more frequently.

Fists clenched, Jongin whirls around and watches Minister Choi cower under his burning stare.

“Are you truly expecting me to stay here?” he barks. “To do _nothing_?”

“Of course not, Your Highness,” the old man quickly replies, visibly frightened, yet clearly unwilling to give in. “I only meant that perhaps bringing him back to the palace might-”

“How can you want me to let him go unpunished?!”

“I understand your resentment, Your Highness. But if this is all true-”

“Do you still have doubts? I showed you more proof than you need!” he exclaims, failing to understand the reason for their reluctance.

“You did, Your Highness. They’re indeed greatly incriminating.”

“What are you waiting for, then?”

“Your Highness…” Minister Park intervenes, just as hesitant. “If he is really your brother…”

“This is all you remember?!” Jongin explodes, venomous glare locking with the man’s widening eyes. “What about the fact that he poisoned your King?!”

“Jongin…” Seohyun calls in a soft voice.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he turns his head toward her.

“What?” he replies, trying to address her as calmly as his boiling blood allows him.

She is not to blame, here. And she has remained silent during the entire meeting.

“If it’s true,” she says in an apparent attempt to carefully choose her words. “Then he is not only our brother.”

Failing to see what she means, Jongin raises his brows, unable to hold back his impatience.

With a sigh, she takes a few seconds before eventually continuing.

“He is Father’s firstborn child… His firstborn _son.”_

“So?” he asks, sounding a little too harsh even to his own ears.

Averting her eyes, she glances at Minister Choi, as if to silently ask for him to confirm what she thinks. When the old man nods, she looks back at him.

“Whether or not he was raised as such, he still-…” she continues, before stopping and nervously nipping at her bottom lip.

Jongin is confused. What are they hiding from him? Why are they so against him going after that traitor?

When he sees she won’t say another word, he turns back toward the ministers, clicking his tongue and raising his brows impatiently.

It’s Minister Choi who ends up explaining.

And whatever Jongin was expecting, it was anything but what he hears next.

“Whether he was raised as His Majesty’s son or not,” the man repeats with extreme caution. “I am afraid his claim rights over the Crown might...prevail over yours.”

The words float in the air, increasingly filling the oppressive silence that suddenly encapsulated the room. Jongin doesn’t move. He keeps staring at Minister Choi, wanting to make sure he hasn’t misheard.

“...I beg your pardon?”

Albeit not directed at them, the menacingly low tone seems to put everyone even more on edge than they were seconds ago.

Breaths deepening, Jongin feels something odd and foreign spark within him.

Possessiveness, he realizes.

So far, he hadn’t even considered this was the reason Changwook had done all this.

And Jongin had never wanted to be King. But suddenly, the idea of this man, this imposter, this _traitor_ wishing to take the throne away from him is angering him so much that he has trouble preventing his body from shaking.

“As we are unsure of his motives,” Minister Nam says when the silence stretches for too long. “Perhaps it would be in our best interest, for now, to maintain him away from the palace.”

Jongin knows this makes sense.

If this is truly why Changwook came here, hindering him from coming _back_ would be the safest strategy. Or rather, from coming anywhere near the one person standing between him and the throne: the current Crown Prince.

But Jongin can’t agree. The betrayal is far too great for him to bear letting that monster get away.

“My father is not dead yet,” he sharply counters. “He is still your King. If there is a chance to save him, how can you expect me not to seize it?”

“I am only advising Your Highness to-”

“Tell your best recruits to get ready,” Jongin interrupts the old man, eyes snapping toward the military commander. “I’ll need twenty of them at the very least. We’ll leave tomorrow at dawn.”

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

“Your Highness? Taeil-ssi has solicited your presence at the North Gates... As soon as possible.”

Bow in hand, Jongin looks up at Hoseong. A worried creased etched between his brows, the eunuch is glancing around, as if he were scared the guards scattered in the training grounds had heard his whisper.

“What is he doing over there?” he asks with a frown of his own.

In his mind, when he had ordered the best recruits to get ready, it had been a given that Taeil and Sehun would be part of the group joining him the next morning. He hasn’t seen neither of them since he arrived here after packing some clothes, but he assumed they were doing the same in the guards’ quarters.

“I… I’m not sure, Your Highness,” Hoseong replies, fidgeting on his feet. “Sehun-ssi mentioned the need to be discreet.”

Taken aback, Jongin remains silent for a moment, wondering what both of them can be doing that requires Jongin to secretly meet them. Being sought out by ministers or bureaucrats is not unusual for him, but soldiers – friends or not – are not supposed to request the Crown Prince to do anything. Even less to go to them if they have perfectly functioning legs.

He ends up nodding, nonetheless, placing his bow back on the rack before heading out of the training grounds, the eunuch on his heels.

Knowing them so well, it must be important if they’re willing to break protocol. As playful as they can be in private matters, even with him, they would never do anything that could even remotely be considered disrespectful.

They take the long route, using smaller alleys where very few people ever go through and passing behind the stables.

The giant gates are coming into view when he hears someone call him, the voice seemingly coming from inside one of the horse tack sheds.

Recognizing Taeil’s tone and inflection, Jongin stops, briefly glancing at Hoseong before turning left to follow the narrow alley. He has barely stepped in front of the shed that the door left ajar fully opens, revealing his alarmed-looking personal guard.

“What is going on?” Jongin asks, brows furrowed in confusion.

Instead of replying, Taeil merely takes a step to the side, leaving the doorway clear for the Crown Prince to enter.

It’s dark when he steps in, the only light coming from the autumn setting sun, entering through the small window, but when his eyes finally adjust, he notices Sehun right by the saddle stands. And he may be tall, but not enough to hide whoever is behind him.

Those might be the longest ears Jongin has ever seen, poking over the guard’s right shoulder when the hybrid girl takes a peek, quivering back behind Sehun as soon as she makes eye contact with the Crown Prince.

“It’s all right,” Sehun tells her, slowly turning around.

It takes a few more reassuring words to convince her the release the firm grip she has on his uniform, but finally, Jongin is able to properly look at her.

A hare hybrid, undoubtedly. She might be around eleven or twelve years old, thirteen at most, and her pale, modest hanbok, albeit dirtied and torn in a few spots, is a clear sign she doesn’t live in the wild.

She seems well-fed as well, letting him assume the state of her clothes is not from being mistreated. She does look frightened, however, or terrified, really, flinching when he takes a small step forward. So Jongin stills and addresses Taeil instead.

“Who is she?” he asks, keeping his voice composed to prevent her from feeling threatened.

“She tried to pass through the North Gates, half an hour ago. When asked for the purpose of her visit, she said she needed to see the Crown Prince,” Taeil replies, glancing at her for a second with a twitch of his brows. “Of course, we explained it was not possible, but then...she started crying, and panicking…”

“She was attracting a lot of attention,” Sehun says, and Jongin sees the girl’s hand reach for the guard’s sleeve in comfort as he speaks. “So, we brought her here to avoid creating a ruckus, and understand why she requested to see you.”

“You did well,” Jongin nods, before looking at her and mustering the gentlest voice he can. “What’s your name?”

“G-Gaeul, Your Highness,” she replies, giving him a trembling bow.

“That’s really pretty. Is it because you were born in autumn?” he asks, earning a timid nod. “All right, Gaeul. Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. Can you tell me why you wanted to see me?”

“Th-the letter,” she stutters, briefly eyeing Taeil who lets out a sigh and steps forward, making her flinch.

“I apologize, Your Highness,” the guard says, handing him an opened envelope. “We had to read it, in case it had anything to do with…”

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence. Jongin nods and grabs it.

“And?”

“Well...it _is_ from him,” Taeil hesitantly replies, Jongin’s eyes widening instantly. “But I don’t think she is an accomplice.”

“I’m not!” the girl suddenly exclaims, voice turning high-pitched in panic and startling the three men. “I’m just Gaeul! I’m no one, Your Highness! I don’t know him!”

Gaze returning to the scared girl, Jongin notices the tears pooling in her eyes as she grows more frantic by the second.

“The tall man passed through my village three days ago and give me the letter!” she continues, words mingling with each other with how fast she speaks. “He said I had to come to the palace and give it to the Crown Prince! I didn’t want to, but he threatened my family! I mean...my...m-my owners,” she adds, a tinge of frightened embarrassment in her tone. “He said...he said that he would send someone to kill them if I talked to anyone else about it.”

When her glistening eyes glance at Taeil at the end of her sentence, Jongin feels the need to reassure her.

“He won’t tell anyone.”

“He also said he would kill _me_ if you didn’t come alone,” she continues, a tear finally escaping her eye and rolling down her cheek. “I ran as fast as I could, Your Highness, I _swear_!”

“I believe you,” Jongin nods. “You and your family will be fine, Gaeul. I won’t let him hurt any of you. You have my word.”

Curiosity piqued by the mention of him coming somewhere on his own, Jongin takes the opportunity given by Sehun providing a handkerchief for the girl to finally pull the letter out of the envelope.

It’s short. And it leaves no chance of misinterpreting it.

Jongin is to ride northward to a specific village, where Changwook will be waiting for him, with the antidote that will cure the King.

He expected that much. He is not even surprised to see it signed as “ _Your brother._ ”

But the last part, however, baffles him.

_I have something else that you might want back.  
Come alone, or you will never see it again._

“Something else?” he breathes out, eyeing Taeil, in case his friend has any idea of what it could mean.

The guard’s expression changes, then. Licking his lips, he can’t seem to be able to meet Jongin’s eyes. IT’s only after a few seconds that he hesitantly reaches out, a white and red piece of folded cloth lain in his palm.

“What is this?”

“It was in the envelope, Your Highness. Behind the letter.”

Something in Taeil’s tone makes it clear that he already opened the cloth, and that Jongin will _not_ like whatever is inside.

It feels strange between his fingers when he carefully picks it up; rigid yet somewhat soft, reminding him of leather before its tanned.

Sehun has tensed next to the sniffing girl, throwing apprehensive glances at Taeil as Jongin begins unwrapping the fabric.

He understands, now.

He understands why Taeil hesitated, and why Sehun looked concerned.

He understands why there are red patches on the white cloth.

He understands why this felt like leather.

He understands all of this the seconds his eyes land on the symbol he recognizes right away.

Skin.

But worst of all, he understands _who_ it belongs too, and what the last part of the letter means.

Changwook has Kyungsoo.

And he cut out a tattoo Jongin knows was right on the hybrid’s spine, to make sure the Crown Prince would get the message loud and clear.

_Come alone, or you will never see it again._

How can it be possible?

How did Changwook get him when Kyungsoo was supposed to be with his tribe?

How did he have the time to find him, mutilate him, and send someone back to the palace with the proof, when he left only a week ago?

It doesn’t make any sense. The timing doesn’t add up.

Unless...

Heart sinking, Jongin’s eyes are riveted to the flap of inked skin in his palm.

Kyungsoo is not that reckless, right?

He couldn’t have decided to come back. He was barely even alive when Jongin left him.

He wouldn’t.

“ _Am I not supposed to protect you?_ ”

The memory hits him like a blow in the stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs, leaving him winded.

This can’t be happening. Not again.

He was supposed to be safe. Jongin brought him back to his family.

Flashing behind his now shut eyelids, he sees images of Kyungsoo approaching through the blizzard.

He had left. He could have run away.

But he came back. And he saved Jongin.

And that day after getting caned…

Jongin pushed him away.

But he came back. With an ointment to ease his pain.

He helped him up the stairs when Jongin’s knee was injured.

He worried after they fell during combat practice.

He got bitten to keep Jongin’s safe.

“ _Am I not supposed to protect you?_ ”

Stupid hybrid, way too caring for his own good.

“Your Highness?”

Startled, Jongin turns around and finds the three other occupants of the room eyeing him anxiously.

He didn’t even notice that he began marching toward the door, hand already on the handle, ready to storm out.

“Your Highness, where are you going?”

“I’m leaving _now_. You read the letter. There’s not a minute to waste.”

They might have both anticipated his reaction, even maybe discussed it before he arrived, because it takes barely a second for Taeil to nod.

“We’re coming with you, then.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Your Highness-”

“Listen, I need you to stay here,” Jongin says, stepping forward in Taeil’s direction.

“But-”

“My father is in danger. And...and so is Kyungsoo. I refuse to risk losing any of them,” he says, shaking his head. “We only know about that one snake hybrid, but he could have more with him. Even if you hide from him, _they_ would be able to smell you long before we even make it. And I can’t-… I can’t let him-...”

The knot around his throat is tightening a little more every time he imagines Kyungsoo’s lifeless eyes staring at him.

He cannot let that happen.

“Jongin…”

As far as he remembers, neither of them has ever called him by his name. It’s against protocol, but right now, he couldn’t care less.

“I know how loyal you are to me,” he says, gulping down to stop his voice from shaking. “And I would trust you with my life. Both of you. But you can’t come with me, this time.”

“But I… We…”

“Please. I am asking this not as the Crown Prince, but as your friend. Stay here,” he says, eyes burning as he looks at them in turns. “Stay here and protect my family, like I would if I could. And make sure _no one_ follows me when morning comes.”

After what feels like forever, Sehun nods, followed by Taeil, albeit a little more reluctantly.

“You have to come back,” Taeil breathes, eyes glistening in the last rays of sunset.

“I will,” Jongin agrees, because he has no other choice.

He is not stupid.

He knows this another is a trap.

But what can he do, at this point?

“You should rest here for the night,” he tells Gaeul right before exiting the room. “A guard will escort you back home to your family tomorrow.”

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

It feels like a repeat. Except, this time, Jongin is on his own.

Digging his heels into Daol‘s sides, he spurs the horse to venture deeper and deeper into the dark forest he went through with Suho, not so long ago.

After days of endless riding, he is almost there.

He instantly recognized the name of the village when he read the letter. It burned to the ground, years ago, during one of the worst droughts the kingdom had known in decades, and his father had had to deal with so many people who had lost everything.

When he finally reaches his destination, Jongin racing heart falters at the eeriness of the scene.

Nature has reclaimed its rights over the whole derelict village. Only a few small houses are still standing, and although the rice straw-thatched roofs are gone, their vine-covered walls still cast long shadows on the moonlit ground.

The night is painting everything in blueish hues, making it all seem like a forgotten city deep undersea. It even smells damp, the light drizzle having soaked the scorched wood, exuding a moldy stench that has Jongin scrunching his nose as he dismounts the stallion. If he is indisposed by it, he can easily imagine how Kyungsoo acute sense of smell must be assaulted at that moment.

After tying Daol’s reins to the remnants of a nearby fence, Jongin begins making his way down what probably used to be the main road, head shifting left and right as he tries to keep his steps as silent as possible by walking on the overgrown grass patches.

It’s useless, really. He is fully aware he doesn't have the upper hand, here. He is willingly walking into a trap, and no amount of discretion or cautiousness will hide him from Changwook. His _brother_ might have even already spotted him. He will reveal himself when he deems the time has come.

There is no sign of life, however, and Jongin keeps going, attentive to the slightest sounds. But the silence is ghostly, and he can’t stop flinching every time the wind ruffles the tree drying leaves or when invisible rodents scurry in the bushes lining the road.

After long minutes wandering around, his patience is starting to wither, and he is about to throw caution away and call Kyungsoo’s name when the light clouds give ways to the full moon, and a silver beam reveals a thin column of smoke farther ahead.

For the briefest of seconds, Jongin’s heartbeat picks up, hope spreading throughout his body at the thought of Kyungsoo being near.

It doesn’t last long, though, and he suddenly feels the presence behind him more than he hears it.

He doesn’t have the time to whirl around before pain explodes on his temple.

The next moment, darkness swallows him.

 

The foul smell of decay hits him the second he regains consciousness, making his stomach heave as his eyes flicker open in confusion. He can almost taste the mustiness on his tongue.

The house he has been brought in is decrepit, moss and mold-covered walls lit by the small fire situated right under the hole in the ceiling, where the tile roof has collapsed.

With his hands tied behind his back, Jongin struggles to get up on his knees, feeling his head pound with each movement but ignoring the pool of blood on the ground.

He can’t have been out for long, judging by the still dark sky.

The rope is wrapped loosely enough for his wrists to have room to twist a little, yet not enough to yank them free. Crooking his fingers, he uses that to his advantage to reach the intricate knots and blindly tries to feel for the end of the rope as he looks around him. His sword is nowhere in sight, and his bow stayed on Daol, but some broken tiles could make good weapons if he needs one.

His index finger has just slipped inside a loose part of the knot when footsteps echo right outside of the house. A few seconds later, Changwoo appears in the doorless entrance, dressed in clothes similar to those he wore the first time Jongin met him. He has a log in one hand, and Jongin’s sword in the other.

“Oh, good. You finally woke up,” he says with a smile, propping the blade against the wall, near the door frame. “How are you feeling?”

Stilling, Jongin watches him walk to the fire and drop the chunk of wood in the flames, waving a hand in front of his face when the damp log starts producing a thick cloud of smoke.

“I’m sorry for hitting your head,” Changwook continues as he turns an apologetic face toward him. “I just needed to make sure you wouldn’t struggle too much.”

His nonchalance is disconcerting, as if knocking Jongin out were not that much of a serious matter.

“It should stop bleeding soon,” he adds in a reassuring tone as he crosses the room and crouches a meter away from Jongin. “You know, I think I heard someone say once that you should never underestimate your enemies… But in your case, it seems I might have overestimated you,” he says with a scoff. “You really came alone.”

Making sure to remain as still as possible, Jongin hooks his finger inside the knot, and slowly starts pulling, wiggling the rope ever so slightly to gradually loosen it.

“But I suppose we are not really enemies, are we?” Changwook chuckles. “We have way more in common than you initially thought.”

When Changwook stands back up, Jongin momentarily stops moving his hands and decides to finally speak to keep the man’s attention.

He doesn’t know where Kyungsoo is, but as long as Changwook is here, he can’t hurt the snow leopard.

“Where is he?” he asks in a low voice, the fire in his eyes succeeding on getting Changwook to keep talking.

“Ah, that little hybrid of yours,” the man scoffs. “Don’t you worry. He is taken care of.”

For the first time since Changwook arrived, his words do have the desired effect, and for a second, Jongin forgets about freeing himself.

“What have you done to him?!”

“You see, I didn’t appreciate finding out he had killed my lovely Saeron... And neither did her sister,” the elder explained with an exaggerated sigh. “She is _really_ set on taking her revenge. It was hard convincing her not tear him apart on the spot when she saw him. But I promised her she would have the honor, in due time.”

The threat is as clear as water, and yet, his tone remains calm, almost friendly, remaining ignorant to the glare sent his way.

“I told her she could still play a little in the meantime, but as long as you behave, she will stay reasonable.”

“What do you want?” Jongin asks through gritted teeth.

“Let me ask you a question instead,” Changwook counters with a smile. “Doesn’t it upset you that our dear father never told you about me? I mean, you never wanted to be King. I know it, and he did too,” he says with feigned compassion, chuckling when Jongin’s expression falters. “He confided in me, you know, during his weakest moments. He was well aware of it all. And yet, he did nothing, even though he had a solution right here,” he finishes, slightly opening his arms as if to design himself.

As unsettled as he feels, Jongin forces himself to resume his task and starts pulling once more on the same part of the first knot, feeling it loosen ever so slightly again.

“It would have been so easy for him to reach out,” Changwook continues, seemingly oblivious to what Jongin is trying to do. “Even before you were born! But I guess you wouldn’t exist if he had, uh?” he scoffs, tilting his head, clearly amused by his own realization. “And it would have been a waste to deprive this kingdom of their arrogant, selfish and petulant little prince.”

The short end of the rope slips through the gap Jongin created, and for a second, it feels like a victory, albeit a small one. But he needs to work faster than that. Who knows what that girl is doing to Kyungsoo at this moment? He needs to find them. Kyungsoo was so weak the last time he saw him, he can’t have possibly recover enough to handle getting tortured.

“I must admit,” Changwook picks up as he casually walks back toward the fire. “Some days, I almost found myself sympathizing with you… But then I would remember who you are, and what you represent,” he says, and for the first time, the look he throws at Jongin is devoid of any pretend friendliness. “And the mere sight of your face was making me want to claw at it.”

In a blink, the smile is back.

Jongin’s eyes follow Changwook as he slowly returns in front of him, his fingers still working as fast and discreetly as he can.

“I praise myself for my patience, really,” Changwook chuckles just as Jongin manages to get the first knot to come off. “Tell me, did you understand by yourself, or was my letter the blatant hint you needed to figure everything out?” the elder asks, although it’s evident the question is purely rhetorical. “You were so blind, and you kept wallowing in self-pity!”

Now he does look somewhat annoyed, although there is still a tinge of amused disbelief in his voice.

“So much that you didn’t notice what was right in front of you.”

The second knot has started to come undone, but in his haste, Jongin has somehow managed to tangle the end of the rope.

“Well, now I know,” he says, pretending to adjust his position to yank on the rope without being too obvious.

“You do!” Changwook exclaims in an oddly pleased manner. “But I am still amazed by how easily I brought you here,” he adds with a little laugh.

Seizing the end of the rope, Jongin pushes it through the gap he created as he watches Changwook reach inside the small pouch tied to his belt.

Eyes widening, his heart misses a bit when he sees the small vial the elder pulls out.

The antidote.

It has to be.

“This is also what you came for, isn’t it?” Changwook chuckles, shaking the small container.

He seems entertained by the way Jongin’s gaze is following it.

“It’s incredible, really. After all his lies, after everything he put you through, you _still_ want to save him,” the man says, looking almost genuinely touched by it. “I would admire such unwavering loyalty...if it weren’t so foolish.

The second knot surrenders.

Only one left.

“What do you want?” Jongin asks again to keep the man’s attention diverted as his fingers start working faster.

He was expecting Changwook to go on mocking him again. But when the elder steps forward and crouches right in front of him, locking their eyes, face turning serious, he knows he is done playing games.

Whatever answer he is about to give will be pure, unadulterated truth.

And the spark in his eyes does not bode well.

“I want you to lose everything,” Changwook breathes. “Just like I did. I want you to see every single person you care for suffer until they _beg_ for me to take their life.”

Jaw clenching, Jongin wills himself to tune him out and tries focusing on his fingers, ignoring the burn as he pulls as hard as he can to loosen the last knot.

“I’ll start with our father,” Changwook continues in a low, silky voice. “Of course, I won’t have to do much. He won’t last long without this,” he chuckles, shaking the vial again, right in front of Jongin’s eyes. “Then I’ll move on to our dear brother. I’ll make sure to carve that optimistic smile on his face before he takes his last breath.”

Jongin can feel the skin on his knuckles starting to peel off the more it scrapes against the rough rope.

“Then I’ll take care of Seohyun-ah,” Changwook says, the way he pronounces her name sending a shiver down Jongin’s spine. “Or maybe our sweet little Yeonjoo. She trusts me, you know. She even helped me leave the palace. She’s so naïve, it was easy to manipulate her.”

His entire body is shaking in repressed furor, but Jongin keeps writhing his hands, pulling and pushing again and again, by now barely even feeling his numb fingertips.

“Why?” he rumbles, stalling for time.

He is almost done. The knot is starting to come off.

“I had to take care of that old preceptor of yours already. It’s ridiculous how no one even noticed,” Changwook says, ignoring his question. “But there are so many left. One by one, I’ll make you watch,” he continues, voice dipping even lower. “Your incompetent eunuch, your sweet little fiancée, and those two poor excuse of guards you call your friends.”

With a twist of his hand, Jongin hooks his thumb around the rope and drags it down.

“And when you’ll think you don’t have any tear left to cry...I’ll bring your precious hybrid in front of you.”

Once, twice.

The knot comes undone.

Jongin yanks his hands apart, and charges forward with a snarl.

By the sound escaping Changwook’s throat, and the way his body opposes no resistance, Jongin knows he wasn’t expecting it.

He vaguely registers the vial flying away and landing somewhere near the exit, but before he can lurch to grab it, his brother has already come to his senses.

Grabbing Jongin’s arm, Changwook twits it as he pushes and shoves him off, making him grunt when he feels his elbow on the verge of breaking.

With a kick of his foot in the elder’s shin, Jongin makes him fall flat on his stomach, freeing his aching arm in the process.

He needs to get his sword.

Standing up, Jongin bolts across the room. But right before he reaches the weapon, an arm suddenly curls around his throat, and Changwook drags him back.

His airway gets momentarily blocked, and a choking gurgle escapes his lips when his brother swings his body up and to the side, sending him to crash into a worn out table that shatters on the impact, pieces of wood flying around.

“You’re nothing but an ungrateful child,” Changwook spits as Jongin tries to catch his breath, back throbbing.

The room is spinning, but he doesn’t get the chance to recover before Changwook is back in front of him, fingers grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking down to make him fall.

Through the dizziness, Jongin somehow manages to stay on his feet and clutches at the elder’s jeogori, making both their bodies clumsily rotate.

When a wave of warmth hits his face, he glances to the side, discovering with horror that the pieces of the table have caught fire, glowing flames starting to spread up the farthest wall.

A knee to the stomach rips a groan out of Changwook, who instantly retaliates by swiftly lifting his elbow. Jongin’s teeth clatter when it collides with his chin, throwing his head back as he wobbly stumbles away, stunned.

“Didn’t I tell you what would happen if you don’t behave?!”

His now untied hair is obscuring his vision, sticking to the sweat covering his face, and he doesn’t see the blow coming. He only feels the knuckles crash against his injured temple, lighting white spots behind his closed eyelids.

The sound of wood burning is way too close, and he forces himself to move, reaching for Changwook’s arm with one hand, the other sliding behind the man’s neck. He presses down on his nape to make him bend as he twists his arm.

“Where is he?!” he yells to cover the noises of the framework of the house starting to fall apart.

The air is suffocating, and he can barely breathe as the blaze keeps spreading, hot, thick smoke invading his lungs and making him violently cough.

Changwook is not in a better state, but he still finds the strength to charge forward, shoulder digging into Jongin’s abdomen and making him lose his balance.

They crash on the ground, the elder on top of him, and before his head has stopped spinning, a forearm is pressing against his throat.

On pure instinct, his hands fumble, trying to grasp the arm and pull it away as he vainly gasps for air.

“You’ll never find him,” Changwook pants with a smirk.

The blood is whooshing against his ears.

His head feels like it’s about to explode, eyeballs ready to burst.

As he tries to blink in a futile attempt not to pass out, he sees Changwook reach down.

“I really didn’t plan on killing you.”

Black spots are dancing in front of him when he catches a glimmer in the elder’s hand.

The metal glows golden under the firelight.

“Not yet, at least.”

The dagger gets closer, and Jongin writhes to break free, hands flailing on the ground to find something to hold onto.

“But you don’t give me much choice.”

Through the inferno, the blade feels ice cold against his skin when Changwook presses it on his throat, right above the forearm still pushing down.

Jongin tries to tilt his head back, but it’s useless.

His hand lands on something hard and rugged.

Without thinking, Jongin clasps his fingers around it, and the next second, Changwook is shouting and falling off of him, a metallic smell mingling with the smoke as the side of his head already bleeds profusely.

The pressure on his neck gone, the scalding air scorches Jongin’s throat and lungs as he loudly gasps, and he breaks into a coughing fit that makes his stomach heaves as he tries to get on all fours.

Through the tears that have filled his eyes, everything glows red and yellow. The entire room is incandescent, pieces of wood crashing on the ground in explosions of embers sizzling on his skin when they ricochet off his body.

He can’t see the vial anymore, so he focuses back on his sword, taking advantage of Changwook still being stunned to start crawling toward the doorway.

He jolts back just in time to avoid the large chunk of burning wood falling from the ceiling but ends up bumping into his brother, who instantly throws himself on top of Jongin, pinning him face down to the ground with all his weight.

He barely has the time to register the pain of his arm getting twisted behind his back when the distinctive smell of hair burning invades his nose.

A second later, flames are licking the side of his face, quickly spreading to more dark strands and up to his scalp, crackling right against his ear.

Panic kicking in, he thrashes to free himself. But it takes too long, and when he finally yanks his arm out of the elder's grip and frantically starts slapping the flaring up locks, the damage has been done already. Wheezy hisses blurt out of his chest as he unintentionally rams flames and embers on his face, and he feels the skin of his cheek searing and starting to blister as he coughs, surrounded by smoke.

The scream stuck in his throat gets out when Changwook grabs a handful of the hair at the back of his head, lifting it only to smash it back on the ground. Half of his vision turns red as blood flows down from the split above his eye. But before the elder can repeat the attack, Jongin bucks under him, wrestling to turn on his back.

Losing his balance, Changwook crashes on the side, catching himself right before he collides with the burning wall.

Ignoring the scalding pain, Jongin doesn’t wait and whirls around, getting on his feet and spurting toward the opposite side of the room, an arm protecting his face from the excruciating heat and burning embers flying in all directions.

His palm sizzles when he wraps his hand around the sword’s grip, but he ignores that again, getting ready when he hears footsteps already rushing after him above the roaring fire.

The moment Changwook is close enough, Jongin violently kicks a foot back, briefly delighted by the satisfying crack of a knee breaking, soon followed by a holler as the elder falls on all fours.

He doesn’t wait.

In one swift movement, he turns on his heels, sword whistling as it slices the suffocating air.

Changwook gasps, freezing as the blade abruptly stops only a breath away from the side of his neck.

Panting through his parched throat, Jongin stares at him, the fire in his chest matching the one raging around them.

His arm is shaking, and the metal grazes Changwook’s skin. Yet, his brother doesn’t cower away and even leans a bit to press the blade against his neck as a vicious smirk curls one side of his lips.

He knows.

He knows why Jongin stopped.

“If you kill me, she will tear him to pieces before you get the chance to see him one last time,” he taunts him, keeping their eyes locked.

Heart racing, Jongin digs the sword farther in, until he sees red pearling on the metal.

He wants nothing more than yank his arm back and slash the bastard’s throat open. He wants to see him agonize at his feet and beg him to end his misery, just so that he can deny it to him.

But Kyungsoo’s face is flashing in his mind, memories of him shaking in his arms as the light in his eyes dwindled away.

He can’t abandon him.

Not again.

Hand tightening around the sword’s grip, he hesitates.

One moment too long.

Because the next one, Changwook is lurching up and ramming his dagger deep in Jongin’s stomach.

 

It burns.

The blade is sharp, yet jagged enough that he can feel every indent grab and tear his flesh as it sinks deeper.

The smoke-filled air can’t properly reach his lungs as he gasps, completely winded, white-hot pain radiating in all the nerve endings of his body.

Sword slipping through his fingers, he stumbles back. Changwook follows, pushing the dagger further, until the crossguard is pressed against Jongin’s abdomen, ripping a strangled cry out of him.

Mouth agape, Jongin’s breaths come out in quick and shallow puffs. He can’t move, paralyzed by the intensity of the pain that keeps growing, increasing tenfold when his abdomen muscles cramp around the blade.

“What a shame really,” Changwook pants. “You’re going to die here, all alone.”

Ears ringing, Jongin can barely catch his words as his hands clumsily reach for his brother’s shoulders, more to have something to cling on to than in an attempt to push him away.

“Your body will burn and rot before anyone finds you,” Changwook continues before scoffing, mocking eyes locking with Jongin’s terrified ones. “If they ever do, of course.”

Blood is already coming out, soaking his clothes and sticking the fabric to his skin.

But he still can’t move or utter a single word. His fingers keep pathetically clutching at Changwook’s jeogori as he looks at the elder, eyes silently imploring for something he cannot name.

“What a sad, sad end for our beloved little Prince. Although, it is quite fitting, don’t you think?” Changwook says, slowly twisting his wrist.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jongin lets out a broken groan as the blade rotates inside him, indents dragging flesh in their tow.

“For once, you have a reason to feel lonely.”

All air escapes his lungs once again when Changwook yanks the dagger out, blood spurting and splashing on the elder’s boots.

Jongin’s knees finally give up, hitting the ground in a matte thud.

The man wipes the blade on Jongin’s shoulder, before backing away, hopping on his uninjured leg.

“They know it’s you,” Jongin grunts, pressing his shaky palm against the gushing wound. “You’ll...never get away...with it,” he continues, gasping as the burning room spins faster around him. “They’ll find you.”

He has to get up.

He has to get _out_.

The entire house is falling apart.

“Oh, let them try,” Changwook scoffs, rapidly limping toward the doorway. “I will enjoy seeing them suffer. It does sadden me that you won’t be here when I put down that sweet hybrid of yours,” he adds. “But I _promise_ to do it slowly.”

The man is almost out when Jongin, sparked by the anger flaring up in his chest, compels himself to get on his feet.

He won’t let that monster come close to Kyungsoo.

Not ever again.

He fights against the pain swallowing him, grabbing the sword in one swift movement.

Surprised, Changwook reacts one moment too late, and a scream rumbles over the fire when the blade slices through the skin of his injured leg.

Charging forward, Jongin tackles him, their bodies bouncing on the door frame before crashing outside in the mud.

The force it required to get there has finished draining his strength, and Jongin can’t do anything when Changwook shoves him off of him and kicks his sword away from his hand.

“Stubbornness _does_ run in our blood, uh?” the elder says as he straddles him, using the exact words Jongin had pronounced, months ago.

Changwook had agreed, that day. But Jongin had no idea, back then, that they shared the same blood.

“They’re close, you know.”

Another strangled cry comes out of Jongin’s throat when Changwook suddenly presses his fingers against the stab wound, twisting and digging, again and again, until his wails resonate in the dark night as he writhes.

“That’s it. Let him hear you.”

Spots are dancing behind his eyelids, pulsing rhythmically with the loud whooshing in his ears. He doesn’t even hear his own screams.

The side of his face explodes in throbbing waves, blistered skin sizzling under the raindrops. It smells like blood, smoke, and mud, with a nauseating note of charred flesh. He can almost taste it every time he gasps for air.

He is losing too much blood.

He is going to die.

He abandoned them all.

His family. His friends. His people.

And Kyungsoo.

He wants to shout his name. Tell him how sorry he is, for hurting him, and breaking all those promises he made.

He can’t save him.

But Changwook is still probing and clawing, and with both arms trapped by his sides under the elder’s knees, Jongin can’t do anything other than thrash under him, back arching as he screams into the night.

He can’t breathe. Can’t think about anything other than the obliterating pain slicing his entrails, a thousand blades surging in his veins and lacerating him from within.

Feeling a moment away from passing out, he nearly misses the loud growl reaching his ears. But right as his eyes catch a moonbeam shining down on silver, the weight on him suddenly disappears

Confused, it takes Jongin a few seconds to register the sounds of the fight going on a few meters away from where he lies. Head rolling to the side, he sees Changwook’s body pinned to the ground, and although only the back of his rescuer is visible, the black ink contrasts enough with his pale skin for Jongin to know who it is, despite his foggy thoughts.

A spark of worry still makes his way through the short-lived relief, and he knows he has to warn Kyungsoo about the dagger.

But the more he looks, trying to get his voice to come out, the more he notices something is off. Even through the dark spots floating in front of him, he can see it.

The built doesn’t match. The movements aren’t as precise.

And when red suddenly splashes and a pained snarl resounds through the night air, Jongin knows.

This is not Kyungsoo.

As the realization hits him, he sees one of the snow leopard’s hand grab Changwook’s neck and his bare teeth going for his throat.

Kindled by pure panic, his scream finally escapes his chest.

“Stop!!”

The opalescent eyes snapping toward him are reflecting the glow of the burning house. The fury in them is not directed at him, but the tinge of surprise is.

“Don’t!” Jongin yells, seeing that Kyungsoo’s brother still hasn’t unclasped his hold on Changwook’s throat.

He can’t kill him.

If he does, they won’t have a chance to find Kyungsoo before the snake girl tears him to shreds.

Purely driven by fear for Kyungsoo, Jongin rolls on his stomach and crawls toward them, pitiful whimpers coming out of his lips with every movement.

When he reaches them, he discovers with horror that Changwook is unconscious.

Or maybe dead; in the haze of his mind, he can’t tell.

But he has to be alive.

Jongin can’t let him die.

Not now. Not like this.

Not before he feels Kyungsoo’s heartbeat under his palm, and his breath against his lips.

With a broken sob, he pushes himself up, only to land half across Changwook’s chest. His hands clutch at his clothes, and he starts shaking him, rattling himself in the process.

“Wake up!” he croaks out through labored breaths. “Wake up! Tell me where he is!”

“Is there someone else with you?” Kyungsoo’s brother asks, tone alarmed as he looks around, ears perked up and shoulders tense.

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin breathes out, squeezing his eyes when his head starts spinning too much. “Your brother,” he adds, quickly remembering he goes by another name with his people. “She has him. She’ll kill him if you-”

“What? Who?”

“The snake… The hybrid…” he says, struggling to get the words out as he feels like his body is falling even if he is not moving. “They’re close… She... she has him…”

The roof of the house crumbling down covers whatever the feline replies, but Jongin needs to tell him before he ends up fainting.

“The piece of skin… It had his tattoo… Kyungsoo’s tattoo…” he slurs, voice turning to a whisper. “They took it...from his back...so that…I would come…” he continues before suddenly remembering. “The vial!”

His movements are sloppy as he pushes himself off of Changwook and begins to crawl toward the blazing house, dragging himself in the mud. Or at least try to. The world sways all around, but it feels like he isn’t moving.

He doesn’t know how far he gets before strong hands stop him.

“No! The vial!” he cries, weakly struggling to break free. “My father… He needs it…”

“What vial?”

“The antidote…”

“Where is it?”

“By the door… Inside…”

Jongin feels the hands around his upper arms tense up, but then, a second later, they’re gone. The next one, still lying on the ground, he sees the hybrid disappears through the flames.

During a, agonizingly long moment, Jongin’s eyes remain riveted to the furnace, fighting against the darkness trying to pull him under. Until finally, Kyungsoo’s brother jumps out, coughing and rolling on the ground to put off the flames charring the piece of fur wrapped around his torso.

Jongin gasps, dragging his heavy body toward the feline, who quickly meets him halfway, pressing the vial in his palm.

He lets himself be rolled on his back, clutching the small container against his chest and barely registering the hybrid starting to untie his hanbok.

He does acknowledge the pain, however, when a palm flattens on the stab wound, tearing a strangled scream out of him.

“I need to stop the bleeding,” the hybrid asks as Jongin’s eyes squeeze shut. “How deep did it go?”

“To the hilt…”

The hands freeze for a second, before starting to work again. Jongin has no idea what he is doing. He just knows that it hurt, sending shards of metal in every single nerve-endings.

Bile burns his throat as it tries to come up when he feels something being pushed _inside_ the wound, way too deep. But he can’t waste what’s left of his strength with more screams.

“You have...to find him…” he whispers, weakly trying to push away the hybrid’s arms. “Kyungsoo… Find him… He’s...close…”

“No, he’s not.”

“She has...him.”

“There’s no one else but us, here,” the snow leopard says, impatiently pinning Jongin’s hand to the ground.

“The tattoo…” Jongin insists, because he is about to pass out and Kyungsoo’s brother is _not listening_.

The way his words are accented are reminding Jongin way too much about how Kyungsoo used to talk, and it’s making everything even worse.

“That one?”

Forcing his eyelids to partly open when he feels the hybrid move, he sees blood-covered fingers pointing at a symbol right below the fur.

Jongin feebly nods, a silent sob clamping his stomach.

“It was gone when you brought him to us,” the hybrid replies, resuming his task.

“Wh-...what?”

“The skin had been cut out already. It had even started to heal.”

In the depth of his mind, Jongin is attempting to make sense of what he just heard.

Gone already?

When?

Through the dark fog, a blurred image of a bloodstain on Kyungsoo’s tunic appears, back from when he found him, weeks ago.

Could the snake hybrid have taken it then? What if she had done that even before leaving the palace with Kyungsoo?

Had Changwook been in possession of it all this time?

Did he simply wait for the right moment to trick him?

If so, then…

“He’s not here…”

“No. He’s with the tribe, getting treated by our father.”

Kyungsoo is not here.

He’s safe.

Changwook didn’t hurt him.

The other snake hybrid might not even exist.

He is all right.

And Jongin has the vial.

His father will be all right as well.

“No, hey! Stay awake!”

“Why… How...are you...here…” he asks, trying to find something to focus on.

“He sent me after you,” the hybrid grumbles, the pressure he puts on the wound earning a pitiful whimper. “He was...worried. Asked me to make sure you made it to the palace safely. But when I arrived there, a soldier told me you left the day before. So I tracked you.”

“...How…”

Even through the haze, he knows they didn’t interact enough for him to have become familiar with the way he smells.

The snow leopard sighs before clicking his tongue.

“My brother’s scent is still _all over_ y-…hey! What did I say?! Stay awake!”

“...Is he...all r-…right?”

“He was fighting to survive when I left. That’s why he sent me,” the feline replies just as Jongin feels something cold being smeared on the wound. “Said nothing could happen to you. Because you promised to come back, and apparently you always keep your promises.”

The fresh feeling doesn’t last long, and it quickly begins to burn, sending waves of pain all throughout his abdomen.

“Not...always…” he pants in between faint whimpers.

“You’ll have to keep that one,” the hybrid says, his words somehow sounding like an order. “But for that, you need to live. Time to use that stubbornness he told me about.”

“...told...you?”

“Yes. You can be mad at him when you see him. I can’t do much more than stopping the bleeding. My father will fix you.”

In his state, the idea of seeing Kyungsoo again is soothing. But he knows he can’t let his brother take him away.

“No… I have to...get back… The palace… My father… He needs...the antidote...”

“That’s a long way back…”

“I have...to… They...poisoned...him...”

“You won’t-” the hybrid starts, interrupting himself and clicking his tongue. “Fine. Let me just apply that on your face too. It’s going to hurt.”

Whatever _that_ is, ‘hurt’ is a euphemism for what it actually does, and Jongin briefly wishes he had previously passed out when the stinky salve touches the burn on his face, and his body nearly convulses under the intensity of the pain.

“It’ll help to keep it from getting infected,” the snow leopard says, sounding somewhat apologetic as he spread some more on his split brow bone and charred scalp.

Panting, Jongin gives him a weak hum when the hand finally withdraws.

“What about him?” the feline then asks when he is done with Jongin’s ear, nudging his head toward the unconscious Changwook as he wipes his hands in the grass. “Do you want me to throw him in the house?”

The offer is tempting, Jongin has to admit. But that would only be sparked by resentment.

He can’t only think about himself. His family needs closure just as much as he does. And letting Changwook die here, hidden, is far from enough. He has to be judged for his crimes, and punished accordingly, in front of the people he made suffer.

“I’ll take him...with me…”

With a sigh, Kyungsoo’s brother nods.

“Fine. Let’s go, then,” he says, leaning to grab Jongin’s arms. The next moment, the world starts spinning again as the hybrid pulls him up in a seated position.

“No… You should...go back…” Jongin wheezes, squeezing his eyes shut to avoid throwing up at the pain radiating from the stab wound.

“You can’t even sit by yourself,” the hybrid snorts, easily, yet carefully hauling him up on his feet.

He is supporting Jongin’s entire bodyweight, seemingly unbothered by it. Way too dizzy to protest, Jongin gives up.

“My horse,” he groans between gritted teeth as the pain keeps spreading in waves.

He vaguely points to where he thinks the entrance of the village is, earning another sigh.

“You could have told me that before I picked you up.”

Somehow, Jongin ends up chuckling, stopping halfway to grunt when the hybrid sits him against the nearby stone fence.

It doesn’t take long for the snow leopard to return with Daol, making sure to keep the stallion as far from the blaze as he can.

He looks much less wary of horses than his younger brother.

“That will make things easier,” the hybrid says, cautiously hoisting Jongin up on Daol’s back after placing the vial securely in one of the saddlebags. “I can carry him and run ahead of you,” he adds, pointing at Changwook. “But you’ll have to hold on by yourself, here.”

“I can...do it,” Jongin breathes, despite being almost slumped on the stallion’s crest, forehead pressed against his mane.

“You better,” the hybrid scoffs, heading toward Changwook. “Even on the brink of death, my brother _will_ find a way to kill me if I don’t make sure you get out of this alive.”

He comes back a few minutes later with the elder thrown over his shoulder, arms and ankles tied.

“That brat had the nerve to scold me after you left,” he continues with an eye-roll, confusing Jongin for a moment. “He could barely stay conscious, but he still found the strength to be angry at me for pushing you and growling at you.”

Through the fog, it takes Jongin a few seconds to realize he is still talking about Kyungsoo, as if he weren’t carrying an unconscious criminal and Jongin wasn’t on the verge of passing out right in front of him.

But he has to say, the way the snow leopard addresses him is a great contrast with the first time they encountered each other.

Eventually, the hybrid seems to remember Jongin is severely injured, and with one last look toward the still burning house, they begin their journey south.


	14. Chapter 14

In spite of what he said, the hybrid proves himself to be quite resourceful to keep Jongin alive.

They rarely stop more than a few hours to sleep or eat, but with his knowledge of both edible and medicinal plants, as well as his ability to catch small preys, the Crown Prince is still breathing four days later.

Somehow, he also manages to keep Changwook unconscious the whole time. Jongin doesn’t ask. He doesn’t really care, as long as the man lives long enough to pay for his crimes. The only thing he focuses on is getting to the palace as soon as they can.

Too many days have passed since he left, and as the hours go by, and so much distance remains to be traveled, he grows more and more terrified at the idea of the state he’ll find his father in.

He did attempt to fasten their pace, but the snow leopard didn’t allow it.

“I don’t want to deal with my brother if you end up dying before we make it,” he reasoned.

He does that a lot, Jongin noticed early on; all this satirical joking, like when he refused to give him his name, arguing that he didn’t need a new one. He keeps bringing his younger brother up in the conversation, but always with a trace of bitterness in his voice that the Crown Prince can’t be entirely sure is feigned or not.

But Jongin is not fooled by it.

He might not properly register what the hybrid is actually saying, but he knows Kyungsoo too well to see the similarities between the brothers. He easily notices the underlying concern in the glances thrown his way or the tension in his jaw when the feline changes his improvised bandages.

He can feel it too. His body is slowly giving up, growing heavier as the fever increases and his strengths wither away. The ringing in his ears never leaves, and at that point, he is not even sure when was the last time he opened his eyes.

He feels hollow, and the numbing buzz coursing under his clammy skin has ended up taking some of the pain away.

He knows it’s not a good sign, so he doesn’t mention it.

Kyungsoo’s brother is doing his best, but Jongin doubts it’ll be enough. The Royal Physician is gone, and he is almost certain none of the apprentices or nurses has seen a wound like the one on his abdomen, and although the hybrid assured him he would be dead by now if any vital organs had been badly damaged, the worry lacing his voice is louder than the comforting words.

He has come to terms with it.

Kyungsoo will survive.

And he just needs to reach the palace to get his father to survive as well.

It’s all right if he doesn’t himself.

He only has to hold onto Daol, just a little while longer.

Losing track of time, Jongin is so focused on repeating this over and over in his mind, that he barely even notices the stallion suddenly slowing down to a stop. He doesn’t hear the panicked voices increasingly louder, and keeps clutching at the horse’s mane even as a pair of hands curls around his upper body and pulls him down.

He needs to hold on.

He needs to reach the palace.

He needs to save his father.

With labored breaths, he tries to struggle against the arms dragging him away, only to fall limp against whoever is restraining him. His heartbeat is erratic, and his head is spinning. The pain is back, so intense it makes him heave and taste bile on the back of his tongue.

His vision is completely blurred when he tries to lift his eyelids, the blinding sun making him tear up. He can’t feel its warmth. He’s burning, but he is freezing.

He reaches out toward the golden form he thinks is Daol, fingers grabbing nothing but air.

It’s only when a high-pitched voice screams his name that everything happening around registers in the scraps of his mind.

The clamor of voices explodes against his eardrums, people flocking all around and making him suffocate. It’s all too much, too quickly.

“Yeonjoo, go back inside!”

He knows that voice. He trusts its owner, even though the woman’s name refuses to come to him.

He made it. He is back home.

She will help. She has to.

“Jongin? Can you hear me?” she says, much closer now. “What happened to him?”

Another voice answers, right against his ear. It comes from the person who keeps carrying him farther away. He knows the man too. The accented consonants are familiar.

A cold sweat rushes throughout his entire body, and the whistling in his ears gets louder. Darkness is skirting his field of view.

He won’t stay conscious for much longer. He has to tell the woman.

It feels like he has to rip the last string of energy pulsing within in chest to get the words out.

“The vi...ial… An...tidote…”

He hears a gasp, and his head falls limp, eyes rolling back.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

If someone were to ask him, Jongin would tell them that death is far more painful than anyone thinks.

Not as much as what he can remember from his last days being alive, but still nothing like the peaceful quietude he used to envision.

The light beyond his eyelids is way too bright, and the silence, too deafening. His skin feels clammy, and his entire body is buzzing, ran by ever-constant vibrations.

It’s uncomfortable, but nothing compared to the stirring pressure radiating from his abdomen. This almost feels like a clawed hand is trying to twist and crush his guts in a vice grip while ripping them out at the same time.

The side of his face - although he is not sure which one – is pulsing as well, rhythmically with the loud thumps in his chest that seem to silently press against his ears.

His lungs and throat are parched as if he had inhaled a flame that would have spread its heat inside his veins.

He doesn’t like it, but hopefully, this is only temporary, and he will stop feeling altogether soon.

 

 

He doesn’t.

It actually gets even worse when the numbing buzz begins to subside.

The fire in his veins ignites his insides, organ after organ like trees in a burning forest.

His whimpers remain stuck low in his throat as the clawed hand tears him apart from within.

It lasts for years, and when he thinks the pain will finally ebb away, it only increases again, and for far longer.

After what feels like two lifetimes, when all that remains of him is a crystallized heart on top of a pile of smoking ashes, Jongin flutters his eyes open.

 

 

It’s confusing.

The room is familiar.

He recognizes the ceiling; knows he has stared at it countless time before. The blanket lightly weighing on his body is familiar too. Even the air doesn’t smell foreign, despite the faint herbal perfume reaching his nose.

He is almost certain this is his bedroom.

As baffling as it is, he apparently didn’t die.

When his eyes start to sting, Jongin remembers he has to blink.

The blur clears up instantly.

He then tries to swallow, wanting to test how his throat will react.

It burns, but it’s bearable.

The room is quiet.

So quiet that he can hear the person walking outside, beyond the closed window. And someone’s calm breaths, even closer. Right next to him.

His nape winces when he snaps his head to the side, but he ignores it, eyes widening when they land on Jongdae.

The pace of his own breathing must have changed, because the next moment, his brother’s cloudy irises are lowering toward him.

“Jongin-ah?”

It’s only one word, merely his name, but the relief in Jongdae’s whisper fills the entire room like a beam of sunlight in the middle of winter.

“Hyung-nim…”

If Jongdae’s voice sounded happy before, it pales in comparison to the smile curling his lips when he hears Jongin’s croaked out call. His hand pats the blanket until he finally finds the younger’s fingers, instantly clinging onto them as he shuffles closer on his knees.

“I’m here,” the elder breathes out, and Jongin sees tears starting to glisten on his lashes. “How are you feeling? Are you in pain?”

After clearing his throat, Jongin noncommittally merely hums, not wanting to worry his brother.

“What-... How am I-... For how long-...”

With a soft, soothing sound, Jongdae brushes his knuckles, clearly not needing to see the younger’s face to feel his agitation and confusion.

“You slept for the most part of the last five days. You lost a lot of blood,” the elder explains, making sure to speak slowly. “We… We were scared you wouldn’t…”

The little quiver in his voice instinctively has Jongin squeezing his brother’s hand, getting rewarded with a smile.

“It will take some time, but Kyungsoo’s brother said you should be all right,” Jongdae continues, taking Jongin aback. “He stayed to take care of you when he found out the Royal Physician was dead,” the elder adds, somehow sensing once again Jongin’s puzzlement.

The memories are a bit hazy, but that last piece of information sparks something in Jongin’s mind.

The Royal Physician has been killed.

By Changwook.

His brother.

“He left this morning,” Jongdae goes on. “With all the troubles in their tribe, he had to go.”

Changwook fled the palace.

Jongin went after him.

He had to.

“But he made me swear to keep an eye on you,” Jongdae says, before letting out a chuckle. “He said Kyungsoo would skin him alive if you died.”

He needed something Changwook had.

Something important.

“Apparently Kyungsoo also told him about me.”

The antidote…

“I was a little-”

“Father!!”

As he jolts in a sitting position, ignoring the stiffness of his body and the pain flashing in his abdomen, Jongin’s call interrupts whatever Jongdae was about to say.

“Don’t move too fast,” his brother instantly gasps, one hand landing on his shoulder to stabilize him as his head starts to spin.

“I got the antidote!” Jongin exclaims, words rushing out between labored breaths. “It was…on Daol’s saddle! Did someone give it…to him?”

Wide-opened eyes turned toward the elder, he sees all traces of joy gradually evaporate from his features. The more serious his expression becomes, the heavier the weight in Jongin’s stomach grows.

“Hyung-nim…” he breathes, squeezing his brother’s hand. “Did someone give him the antidote?” he repeats, slightly emphasizing each word.

“Jongin-ah, I’m…”

“...He’s fine, right?” the younger slowly asks in a wavering voice. “The antidote worked…”

“I’m… I’m really sorry, he…”

“No. No, it worked,” Jongin says, shaking his head. “I-… I brought it back… And it worked.”

“He-”

“Is he awake now? I should go greet him…and pay my respects.”

“Stop,” Jongdae says, despair lacing his tone as he tries to prevent Jongin from getting up. “You’re going to reopen your wound.”

“He must…be waiting for me.”

“Jongin-ah stop! He… He is gone.”

With a sharp inhale burning his lungs, Jongin halts his movements and squeezes his eyes shut.

It can’t be true.

How could it be?

He had the antidote. He nearly died to bring it back.

Jongdae must be mistaken.

If he survived, how could their father be gone?

Perhaps Jongdae meant that the King was sent to another kingdom to be cured by a proper doctor.

Could Kyungsoo’s brother have taken him to the tribe’s healer?

He can’t be dead.

Jongin is alive. His father is strong and just as stubborn.

The antidote worked.

He must be waiting for Jongin to come.

“Jongin, wait. Stop, you will hurt yourself!”

Curled around his arm and shoulder, Jongdae’s hands are keeping him from moving.

“I have to go,” Jongin says, strangled voice breaking as he weakly tries to break free. “He’s waiting… I know he wants to see me…”

“Jongin-ah, _please_ … Stop…”

He barely even registers the tears streaming down his cheeks, the pain in his stomach overpowered by the ache deep within his chest.

It _cannot_ be true.

But Jongdae’s glassy eyes are shining too much.

“It had to work…” Jongin whispers, the words struggling to make their way through his clamped throat. “Hyung-nim, it _had_ to work…”

“I’m so sorry,” Jongdae breathes out, shaking his head. “He… He passed away a few hours before you came back.”

The buzzing in his ears has returned, and Jongin shuts his lids tight, tears falling on the hand Jongdae is holding again. Immobile, he squeezes the fingers back as his frozen heart shatters in icy shards.

He failed him.

He was too late.

Jongin is not sure when his head ends up falling on his brother’s shoulder, or when Jongdae’s arms curl around his trembling frame, supporting his upper body as he silently sobs.

His father died. And Jongin wasn’t there.

Just like he hadn’t been by his mother’s side when she took her last breath.

He tried.

He fought so hard.

But it had all been for naught.

The two brothers remain in the same position for a long time, Jongin quietly crying as Jongdae holds him close, palm stroking his back.

“Where is he?” Jongin brokenly asks.

“They brought him in the ancestral shrine,” the elder softly replies without stopping the soothing motion. “To start the rituals. They wanted to begin wrapping his body already, but… Noonim and I thought you would want to see him before. They agreed to wait until you’d wake up.”

Sniffling, Jongin feebly nods.

“Thank you.”

“He never was the kindest father to me, or our sister,” Jongdae says, although there is no trace of resentment in his tone. “But I know it was different for you. I know how much respect you had... _have_ for him.”

It’s a feeling of guilt that submerges Jongin when he hears those words. For the major part of his life, he had turned a blind eye to the treatment that his siblings, and especially Jongdae, had endured. He had been so selfish, consumed by his rancor.

What is he supposed to do, now that they are all he has left?

How can he atone for all the wrong he has done, and all the pain he ignored?

How can he justify that respect he held for their father when the man barely ever showed kindness toward Seohyun and Jongdae?

Somehow, Jongdae seems to know what thoughts are troubling him, because his embrace tightens a bit more.

“It’s all right,” he whispers, although Jongin doesn’t think it is. “I understand, you know? Sometimes we care about people, even if they hurt us.”

The phrasing is not accidental. He knows the elder is not only speaking about Jongin’s feelings for their father, despite how rough he had been with him.

It’s about his own feelings toward Jongin, as well.

“Because it doesn’t mean they don’t care for us as well, right?”

With another sob, Jongin nods again, burying the non-bandaged side of his face against his brother’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffles.

“I know.”

And in those two little words, Jongin can hear the forgiveness he doesn’t deserve has been granted to him long ago.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

“Are you sure, Your Highness?”

With a strained exhale, Jongin adjusts his body to lean a bit away from Hoseong, slowly withdrawing his arm from the eunuch’s shoulders to try to stand on his own.

“I am,” he replies with a small nod, looking back into Hoseong’s anxious gaze. “I need to see him.”

For a few more seconds, the eunuch’s arm lingers around his waist, before he nods back, and slowly takes a step back, visibly reluctant at letting Jongin walk without his help.

“I’ll wait upstairs, then. Your Highness can...call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Jongin says, offering him a little smile.

Still looking somewhat hesitant, Hoseong eventually gives in and climb all the way back up, soon followed by the guard facing Jongin.

When he is sure they’re gone, he takes a deep breath, needing a moment to compose himself.

The hallway seems to never end as he begins walking. With each step, he has to hold back a groan, feeling the wound on his abdomen stir and ripple waves of pain all across his upper body and down his thighs.

Although not as much as the last time he came down here, the air smells damp, heavily sinking at the bottom of his lungs and leaving a muddy taste on his tongue.

Only a few torches are lit, but he doesn’t really need to see. He knows where he has to go.

And he braced himself for this during the entire day, but when he discerns the pitiful silhouette from far away, he can’t help but wish he had stayed in his bed.

Jongdae was still there when he woke up this morning, looking exhausted after staying awake the entire night to watch over him. He only relented to go get some rest, albeit reluctantly, when Seohyun and Yeonjoo came to visit Jongin later. Although he did return in the early afternoon, right as Eunha was leaving.

They all remained awfully quiet, only talking about trivial matters and never broaching the topic that plagued all their minds. Seohyun only briefly mentioned Jongin’s preceptor’s funerals. He didn’t ask her to develop.

As much time as he spent with Jongin, Jongdae had, however, not offered to accompany him when the younger asked Hoseong to help him on his way to the ancestral shrine.

Jongin was thankful. Deep down, he knows that neither Seohyun nor Jongdae would ever resent him for grieving the loss of their father, but despite his brother’s reassurance, he would’ve felt guilty to break down in front of any of them as he stood by the King’s adorned body.

He needed to be alone at that moment, to shed all the tears he had, so that he wouldn’t crumble during the six months it’ll take to prepare the King’s body for his funeral.

“ _You’ll have to be strong_ ,” his mother had said.

If only she had known.

 

The ethereal vision of the lifeless Monarch is still haunting his thoughts as he finally reaches the end of the grim hallway, making the scene in front of his eyes all the more satisfying, yet enraging.

“Isn’t that my dear youngest brother? So, you’re still alive, uh?”

The raspiness in Changwook’s voice is exacerbating the snarky tone of his comment. But Jongin remains silent, taking in the sight beyond the cell bars.

Seated with his back against the wall, heavy chains tethering him, the man looks pathetic.

From what Jongin heard, at Seohyun’s request, he has only been fed enough to keep him alive. And albeit not drastic, the difference is still noticeable. He has only been in this cell for six days, but his cheeks are hollower than they used to be, dark circles, chapped lips and disheveled, greasy hair are making him look even sicker.

His prisoner clothes, previously white, are covert in grime, sweat, and blood making them stick to some parts of his body. The knee Jongin broke is swollen, stretching the fabric of his baji as his leg rest limp on the dirt ground, the cut his sword made right above most likely infected by now.

There was no use wasting medical supplies on him.

Jongin would be lying if he said he is not enjoying the view.

“Big cat got your tongue?” Changwook taunts him before getting interrupted by a wet coughing fit. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” he croaks out after catching his breath and spitting. “Surely this is not a courtesy call, is it?”

It’s not. But Jongin is also not entirely sure why he came. After leaving the ancestral shrine, he asked Hoseong to help him to the security building without thinking much about it.

He just knew he needed to see the monster responsible for the death of his father.

Changwook sits in Jongin’s shadow cast by the torches burning along the hallway behind, but the contemptuous look on his face is still visible, and somehow, the words make their way out of Jongin’s lips before he realizes it.

“I want to know why. I want to understand.”

“Of course you do,” Changwook scoffs, coughing again. “It’s frightening to witness again and again how ignorant and gullible you are. I fail to see why he valued you so much.”

“All the lies you told to manipulate us, to gain my trust…”

“Oh, but I didn’t lie. Not entirely,” the elder counters with a smirk. “Merely about not knowing who my real father was after reading the letters he exchanged with my mother. It didn’t take me long to figure out he signed them with the name he wore before being crowned king.”

“What about that hybrid, then? This entire story about letting her go because she missed her family. Wasn’t _that_ a lie?”

“I only told you what you wanted to hear,” Changwook raspily laughs. “You can’t possibly blame me for wanting to help my little brother with his broken heart. That obsession you had over him was worrisome, just as much as this... _bond_ you thought you created with him.”

“Didn’t the snake girl mark you?”

“I needed Saeron’s loyalty,” Changwook says, shrugging. “Trust is nothing but an illusion, but she had to believe we shared some sort of connection. She wouldn’t have been of any use to me otherwise. So I relented when she asked.”

“She was just a tool for you,” Jongin says, not bothering concealing how repulsed he is.

“A defective one,” Changwook scoffs. “She was so eager to please me that she almost ruined everything going after our beloved Jongdae on her own volition.”

Eyes widening, Jongin lets out a shaky exhale.

This was the moment they had discovered a hybrid was threatening the royal family.

“You warned me I might have been the target…”

“You were. Although she was not supposed to bite you. But I admit it worked out well, in the end.”

“Had everything worked at so well, you wouldn’t be chained in a cell right now,” Jongin bluntly replies, earning a little laugh that ends in yet another coughing fit.

“I guess so. You surely wouldn’t be here either,” Changwook says, sounding disturbingly nonchalant. “But I didn’t entirely fail, did I?” he adds, one side of his lips curling up. “ _You_ did.”

Brows twitching, Jongin bites the inside of his cheek.

“Rumor has it that you were too late to save our father… Tell me, how does it feel?”

“Probably just as horrible as when you found out he never cared about you.”

This is a lie, Jongin knows it.

He can still remember his father’s delirious ravings, but somehow, the selfish need to wipe that smirk off the elder face is overpowering the promise he made to himself to keep his composure.

He should have known this wouldn’t work, though.

“I see Kyungsoo’s feistiness rubbed off on you,” Changwook chuckles.

“Don’t pronounce his name,” Jongin retorts through gritted teeth, upsetting the bandaged burnt skin on his jaw.

“Or what? What could you possibly threaten me with?” the elder says a bit louder, yet looking just as amused. “I am genuinely concerned for the future of this kingdom, you know? Such a weak king will only lead all those people to their demise.”

“It’s a good thing you won’t be here to witness it, then.”

“Ha! Indeed,” Changwook says after letting out a loud laugh that reverberates in the dark underground prison. “I must admit, he was right about at least one thing. You _are_ truly devoted to what you set your mind on.”

It takes Jongin a couple of seconds to realize Changwook is speaking about the late King, and his breathing imperceptibly hitches at the idea of his father talking about him in those terms.

Apparently not subtly enough, however.

“Yes, I was surprised too,” the elder nods, the infuriating smirk still on his lips. “Do you know what he told me, the first time he met me?” he continues with a cynical chuckle. “After twenty-seven years of knowing my existence and yet never _once_ trying to see me… He said that I might be his son, but that it didn’t matter, and never would. He said he may have loved my mother, and may even still do after all this time, but that I would never be more than a shameful secret.”

The chains rattle as the man supports himself on the ground to stand on one foot, one hand propped on the wall behind him, face finally being lit by the torches.

“He said _you_ were all that mattered, and that I was only a mistake. That I should have never been born. That it was _my_ fault if he had lost her. I came here thinking I would find a father who had kept me hidden to protect me,” Changwook says, lips pulled in a disgusted grimace. “Instead, I found a heartless man, who shamed me for a mistake _he_ made.”

“So, you decided to kill him?” Jongin scoffs, unable to feel the slightest sympathy.

“I didn’t want more than a chance to know my real father,” the elder says in lieu of an answer before chuckling again. “He begged, you know? That man everyone describes as ruthless. He _implored_ me when he realized what was happening.”

Stomach churning, Jongin has to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent his eyes from tearing up. He can’t show any weakness. Changwook doesn’t deserve to know how much it hurts to hear this.

“I would have been inclined to end his suffering quicker than I had planned,” the man continues, the smirk abruptly slipping off his face. “Had he not been begging for me not to harm _you_ … Even as he was dying, I still held no meaning to him... You were still all that mattered.”

Jongin’s shaky inhale is silent to his own ears, covered by the sound of his quickening heartbeats.

“ _Spare the Crown Prince! Spare my son!_ ” Changwook mimics, but the more he speaks, the wobblier his voice becomes, until it finally cracks when he utters the next words. “I am his son too… We share the same blood… So, why?”

Coming down here, Jongin wasn’t sure what to expect.

But with the way his eyes have been burning for the last few minutes, he surely didn’t anticipate for the first tear to be shed by Changwook. It does, however, and Jongin watches it roll down the elder’s hollowed cheek, faintly reflecting the torch firelight.

“Why should I have let you live, uh?” the man continues, voice breathing. “Why should I stay silent? Why should you get _everything_ , when you don’t want any of it?”

He speaks louder and louder, but Jongin remains still and silent, staring at him with emotionless eyes which in turn seems to upset the man even further.

“I’ve spent my whole life being despised by a father I thought was mine! I was ridiculed and called a disgrace by him, always in the shadows of my younger siblings... Why is it that, when I met my real father, the same happened all over again?!”

As he shouts, Changwook suddenly starts moving, stumbling forward and seemingly forgetting about his injured leg. Tripping, he ends up catching himself on the bars at the last moment, right in front of the Crown Prince.

Jongin startles, holding back a grunt when the pain in his abdomen ripples around.

“Why must I be a mistake?” Changwook continues, knuckles white as he clutches the bars, glistening eyes locked into Jongin’s stoic ones. “Why must I be that secret he is ashamed of? Why can’t he love me?! Why?!!”

For a moment, Jongin silently watches him, staring at the way his head drops and hangs low, pathetic sobs rattling his frame.

Were the circumstances different, or the person in front of him, someone else, perhaps Jongin could have felt compassion.

Perhaps he would have understood.

Perhaps showing mercy would’ve been possible.

But things are what they are, and he can’t bring himself to feel any empathy.

“So what?” he says in a completely emotionless tone. “Is it pity that you seek? Would you want me to feel sorry for you after you hurt my family?”

_After you hurt Kyungsoo_.

“I’m your family too!” Changwook wails, head snapping up and revealing his bloodshot eyes. “I’m your brother!!”

“You are. And it makes your actions all the worse. I regret ever thinking that we were alike and could understand each other.”

For all the resentment that had haunted him during his entire life, Jongin still cannot fathom how someone would do such things.

How much rancor and hatred can a person’s heart carry for them to wish the death of their own family? To want to see them suffer and take pleasure in it?

All the lies, the deception, and the manipulation; it had been nothing but a cruel, inhuman game. A game that Jongin would never be able to understand, no matter how many explanation or justification he would hear.

He still stands unmoving, eyes locking back in the elder’s teary ones. And when he speaks again, his tone remains just as impassive.

“Had I died like you planned,” he slowly says. “What would you have done, then? With all of us dead. Would you have taken the throne?”

“Why not?” Changwook counters, voice hoarse. “You don’t want it anyway! I am the King’s first born!”

“And yet, you killed him,” Jongin instantly counters, still just as calmly. “Your own father. Is this your definition of familial devotion?”

“He deserved it for treating me like this! For treating my _mother_ the way he did!”

The cold chuckle escaping Jongin’s lips seems to take the man aback, his brows twitching as his lips tremble.

“I was wrong,” Jongin says, upper lip curling in disgust as he shakes his head. “I _do_ feel sorry… I pity your poor mother. She must be weeping in her grave, seeing what you’ve become.”

Jongin knows he should feel bad when he sees the hurt exploding in Changwook’s gaze. But the visions of his father’s lifeless body, of Jongdae’s convulsing frame, of the light in Kyungsoo’s eyes fading away, are not allowing him to feel anything other than unadulterated loathing for the man in front of him.

Who knows what he would have done to Seohyun and Yeonjoo? To Eunha, Hoseong, Taeil or Sehun.

He had already murdered his preceptor.

Lifting his chin, Jongin takes a step forward, witnessing with a secret thrill Changwook stumble back at the sudden invasion of his breathing space.

“The people want you to be burned at the stake,” he says in a sinister voice. “They want to watch you beg for the agony to end as the flames consume you.”

Changwook seems to have lost the ability to speak, lips parted, unable to do anything aside from staring into Jongin’s cold eyes.

And for the first time, the fear painting his features might very well be genuine.

“But as you said,” Jongin steadily continues. “You are my brother. The same blood runs in our veins. And for that reason, I will grant you a favor.”

At the dawn of his ascension to the throne, Jongin knows this decision will shape the kind of monarch he will be.

“A quick death, devoid of any pain,” he declares, making sure to keep their eyes locked as he pauses for a few seconds. “You will be beheaded, at first light on the public place, three days from now.”

Jongin still maintains the eye contact as Changwook shakily exhales through his nose, his jaw tensing as anger contorts his traits.

He remains composed even when a new stream of bitter tears roll down the elder’s cheeks, soundlessly waiting for several minutes.

Then, he steps back, head held high.

“The bodies of executed people are allowed funeral proceedings,” he says. “Yours will, therefore, be returned to the man who raised you.”

Like a blow in the guts, Jongin’s words have Changwook falling on his knees as he shakes his head, an emotion Jongin has never seen in his eyes.

“No…”

In the silence, the whispered word floats, gliding in the air to reach Jongin, who in turn, only stares down at his brother.

_Then, you can be buried by your mother’s side_ , he thinks, yet doesn’t say out loud, because the elder doesn’t deserve to hear it.

As much as he abhors the man in front of him, Jongin cannot bring himself to give in the people’s spiteful demand. He refuses his first decision as a king to be nothing but a sheer act of cruelty.

He will _not_ be like Changwook.

“ _You’ll have to be strong. People count on you, Jongin. You must be the king they deserve._ ”

Perhaps his mother knew, in the end.

Taking a deep breath, Jongin lets his gaze lingers for a few more seconds on the knelt figure of his brother.

Then, he steps back.

Once, twice, before turning around.

And as he walks away, the sound of Changwook’s quiet crying fading in the background, Jongin promises himself that he will be the king that Yangkwang deserves.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

Eyes shut, Jongin calmly breathes in and out, fingers playing with the nine jade-beaded string decorating the crown he was wearing earlier that day.

He has already taken off his _gujangbok_ and dressed in the white mourning clothes he will wear for the next six months until the King’s funeral.

_The former King_ , he reminds himself, lids fluttering open.

The crowning rituals began at sunrise.

He started by burning incense in front of his father’s body. Then, after being let into the Throne Hall during a never-ending procession, he took place on the royal seat, watching over the courtyard below as the domestics and bureaucrats bowed to him four times, shouting in unison: “ _Long live the King!_ ” with each obeisance.

It felt surreal. Like watching himself from above.

His shoulders are still strained from holding the _gyu_ upright in front of his chest with both hands for so long. Somehow, despite being the same, the jade tablet felt much heavier than what he remembers from when he had been made crown prince.

The pain in his abdomen didn’t help, but he pushed through the hours-long ceremony, compelling his face to remain free from any sign that he was hurting.

He can at least praise himself for letting Seohyun and Jongdae handle the choosing of the name he would now use as a monarch. Had he come up with it himself, it would’ve undoubtedly been a disaster. He has always been awful at naming things.

Perhaps with one exception.

“Is Your Highness feeling all right?”

Flinching, Jongin’s eyes shoot up and land on Hoseong, whom he didn’t hear come in, too lost in his thoughts. He doesn’t get the chance to reply, however, when the eunuch’s face suddenly turns alarmed.

“My apologies,” the young man says with a bow. “I meant...Your Majesty.”

Dumbfounded, Jongin blinks at him, realizing he didn’t even notice the mistake. He lets out a quiet chuckle at the sheepish look direct his way.

“My mind still hasn’t processed,” Hoseong confesses, visibly embarrassed.

“Neither has mine,” Jongin admits, offering him a brief smile that gets instantly returned. “I’m all right. Did you need something?”

“You are awaited for the reading of your accession edict.”

With a sigh, Jongin nods.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” he says. “Thank you.”

Eyes returning to the beads between his fingers, he catches Hoseong bowing and turning around. Yet, the eunuch halts his step, lingering in the doorway, so Jongin looks back up.

“Is there something else?” he asks when he sees the hesitation painting the man’s features.

“I… I wanted to thank you.”

Confused, Jongin raises his brows, waiting for him to develop further.

“For keeping me as your personal eunuch…” Hoseong eventually says after a few seconds, eyes lowering toward the ground as the shadow of a smile grazes his lips. “It’s a great honor.”

For the second time in a few minutes, Jongin softly chuckles, earning a surprised look.

“I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way,” he simply says. “You have my absolute trust.”

The same goes for Taeil and Sehun, whom he will make sure remain his personal guards.  The thought of replacing any of them didn’t even cross his mind, so he can’t help but be touched by the way Hoseong’s eyes are glistening as he beams.

Trust is not an illusion.

“I’ll wait for Your Majesty outside,” the eunuch says with yet another bow, not quite succeeding at concealing the joy in his wavering voice.

Now on his own, Jongin lets his gaze roam around the room, allowing himself to remember the first time he steps in, almost exactly nine months ago. He was so afraid, back then, ear pressed against the wooden door, trying to hear if his scary birthday present had followed him to rip his throat. After all this time, and everything that has happened, his reaction feels just as ridiculous as it must have seemed for the snow leopard, that night.

He won’t ever need to come here again, now that his belongings have been moved to the King’s quarters.

With a calm exhale, Jongin places the beaded crown on top of the chest of drawers and exits the room. For a second, he lingers right past the threshold, gaze flickering toward the door at the end of the hallway. That room is clean as well; he knows the domestics have removed every trace that someone used to occupy it.

He doesn’t know what they’ve done with everything, and he won’t ask.

This is the last time he lets himself remember. At least for the time being.

And when he finally steps out of the pavilion, offering another smile to Hoseong, he lets the young man close the doors, sealing all the memories deep in his mind as the key clicks in the padlock.

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

 

The footway is covered in cherry blossom petals as Jongin walks in the gardens. Some are still flying around, carried by the soft breeze and grazing his face.

Warmed by the sun, he peacefully strolls, taking in the vivid colors surrounding him and the blend of floral and fruity perfumes floating in the air.

Spring is in full bloom, much sunnier than it was the previous year, and after the harsh winter they went through, it feels like the entire palace is catching its breath. It’s also a nice change from the quietness that reigned during the last six months.

King Youngho was buried three weeks ago already, but Jongin has yet to get used not to wear the white mourning clothes every day.

It would be a lie to say that he has easily adjusted to his new position. It has been anything but effortless. Sometimes, he even forgets, waking up confused in a room he still doesn’t consider as his own, or turning around thinking his father is here when someone calls him by his title.

The realization always hits him like a punch in the chest, knocking all the air out of his lungs as he bites the inside of his cheek.

Thankfully, he is not alone. Seohyun and Jongdae have been by his sides every step of the way, supporting him, helping him, or even just listening to him when everything is all too much.

Although for some reason, during those conversations, both of them systematically ends up bringing up the one topic Jongin always does his absolute best to avoid.

A couple of months ago, Seohyun asked why he hadn’t pronounced _his_ name even once since last autumn. That resulted in Jongin escaping for a five-hour ride.

And no later than an hour ago, Jongdae nonchalantly talked about the time he spent with _him_ , remembering how _he_ would always mention Jongin, somehow. Especially during the month he spent in Pyungpo.

“Whenever he talked about you,” Jongdae had said. “He always added a cynical comment right after. As if your name had slipped out of his mouth, but he didn’t want me to think he cared, so he tried to cover it up by acting bitter. It wasn’t very convincing, though.”

This was a slippery path Jongin didn’t want to take, which had prompted him to leave, and eventually led him to walk through the gardens.

The memories remain locked away. He refuses to look for the key. He has hidden it way too deep within his chest.

He can’t stop his eyes, however, from glancing at the Japanese painted fern when he passes by it. It’s casting dancing shadows on the ground, letting the sun filter through its leaves as it sways in the breeze.

The crocus is no longer there.

The fern’s protection wasn’t enough to keep it alive. But Jongin is convinced the wind has carried its seeds away to bloom anew, somewhere safer.

He keeps sauntering, enjoying the sunbeams on his face. He can hear a few girls joyfully chatting somewhere beyond the hedge, and a little smile curls his lips when he recognizes Haejin’s laughter. He knows she’s quite excited since her younger sister is supposed to come and visit her soon, as per instructions given by Jongin in one of his decrees.

Allowing the palace domestics to see their families once a month is only a small step in the direction he wants his reign to take. Jongin knows he has to do things slowly; no change can be made abruptly after centuries of unyielding sovereignty. But he hopes he will be able to be a good king during the time allotted to him as this kingdom’s ruler.

He is rounding the end of the hedge when he spots her, her bright pink hanbok looking flamboyant in the sunlight.

She hasn’t heard him yet, seemingly focused on something happening on her right, behind a row of trees. So, Jongin quietly heads her way and leans right above her shoulder to see what she is looking at.

“Eavesdropping again?” he asks.

He barely steps back in time to avoid the pin in her hair to scratch the large burn scar on his face as she whirls around with a little yelp. One hand pressed on her sternum as she catches her breath, she glares at him for a second before Jongin’s laughter ends up infecting her.

“One day you’ll make my heart stop if you keep doing this!” she says, her attempt at sounding upset entirely failing.

“Are you blaming me for your tendency to spy on people?”

“I was not spying. Merely looking.”

“And what is it that you were so captivated about?” Jongin asks, stepping forward only to be blocked by Eunha.

“Nothing!”

Unfortunately for the Princess, despite her updo, she is not tall enough to obstruct his field of vision, and he ends up chuckling when he spots the two people walking down a parallel pathway.

“I wasn’t aware my brother’s name was now ‘Nothing’…”

As only answer, Eunha makes a face at him, but he still catches the blush blooming on her cheeks when she glances over her shoulder to watch Jongdae and Wonchul amble away.

When Jongin offers his elbow, the girl comfortably hooks her hands around it and lets herself be guided down the footway.

It is not unusual for the two of them to take walks together, now.

Jongin was crowned in a rush, by uttermost necessity when his father passed. At that time, him not being married had been relegated to a background issue they would have to deal with later on. And after that, the six-month period of mourning had rendered impossible to celebrate a wedding.

But with the funerals done weeks ago, the topic has already been brought up during a few meetings, and Jongin doesn’t doubt that the preparations have already started.

In the absolute, the idea of marrying Eunha is not something he is against. He understands why he should do it, and the Princess is definitely one of the best candidates he can envision.

But in actual fact, it wouldn’t be fair. For neither of them.

She has thrived since she arrived at the palace, and Jongin is not the only one who noticed it. The Monarchs of the three other kingdoms traveled to Yangkwang for King Youngho’s funerals, and at that moment, he understood why Eunha had done anything to leave Sinjae.

Witnessing the way her brother acted with her, Jongin had made a point to include her in their conversations, giving her the voice she never had back home, even when it wasn’t needed. The annoyance on King Seokbyul’s face as he watched his youngest sister easily converse with Jongin had been rewarding enough to make bearable the political gathering their stay had turned into.

King Taegeun remained just as insufferable as Jongin remembered, and Queen Sunhui had made clear she disliked Jongin as much as she did his father. So to say that he was glad when they all eventually left would be an understatement.

He is, however, still proud of himself for handling things like he did. He wants his reign to count in Yangkwang’s history, and he made sure that none of the other monarchs could doubt his plan and motives.

Or at least the part he allowed himself to reveal.

There was, and still is no need for them – or anyone else, really – to know everything. He plans on keeping his ultimate objective secret until it’s time to confide in the person concerned, and as surprise as she will surely be, he knows Seohyun will understand why he waited to tell her.

But in order to reach that aim, there are things he must ensure.

“Pink suits you,” Jongin says, keeping his eyes ahead. “You look like an azalea flower, dressed like that.”

“Your Majesty surely enjoys comparing me with flowers,” Eunha replies with a little chuckle. “Didn’t you say I reminded you of a magnolia, a few months ago?”

“Because you did,” he says, remembering how even in white mourning clothes, she still managed to look pretty. “Are my compliments unwelcome?”

“Not at all. Merely surprising,” she answers with a shrug. “ _You_ surprise me a lot.”

“How so?”

“The way you acted with me when my brother was here, for example. Don’t misunderstand!” she quickly adds. “I greatly appreciated it. But it _was_ a little astonishing to see you defy him like that.”

“Were you expecting me to suddenly shun you?”

“I had no specific expectation. Which is why the surprise was so pleasant.”

“I would like to apologize,” Jongin says after a short silence, earning a confused look. “For not treating you the way I should have when you arrived at the palace.”

As they turn left to follow the path nearing the largest crocus flowerbed, he half-anticipates her signature teasing comment about how he is not as bad as the rumors used to say and how he can, in fact, recognize and admit his faults. But instead, Eunha soothingly rubs her thumb on his arm, where her hands are still curled.

“I’ll accept your apologies,” she softly replies, offering him a grateful smile. “Although, I never blamed you. I do understand the reasons of your reaction.”

“It _was_ a bit shocking to find out I was to be married to a perfect stranger,” he says with a little chuckle, remembering how he stormed into the Throne Hall right after meeting her.

Shocked is a mild word to describe how he felt, at that moment. He was positively furious.

It seems ridiculous, now.

“I wasn’t only referring to this,” she says, shaking her head without losing her grin.

Haejin yelps and laughs again somewhere behind them as Jongin raises his brows as Eunha.

“Please, Jongin,” she says with a little scoff, sending him a knowing look and ignoring the surprise on his face at hearing her address him by his name. “I was, and still am obviously not your first choice.”

If she notices the way his breath hitches, or how his steps falter, she doesn’t mention it. Although Seohyun and Jongdae have been trying to get their brother to talk about a particular hybrid, Eunha has never brought the subject up in any way.

“Wh-what do you mean?” he asks, his slightly hoarse voice betraying him and earning an eye-roll.

“I knew from the very start that your heart was owned by someone else,” she simply says. “Probably even before you realized it yourself…”

Then, as if a memory had just hit her, she starts chortling.

“I even asked him about it, and he replied that you didn’t like tangerines,” she says, shaking her head, clearly amused.

She looks away, however, right after she speaks, as if to give him a moment to compose himself and blink away the blur she must have noticed in his prickling eyes.

Owned by someone else.

He guesses she is right.

His heart belongs under the moonbeams, on the earth, surrounded by silence.

This is where he left it, somewhere in the snow.

Subtly clearing his throat, he steals a glance at the Princess.

“I could say the same thing for you,” he gently says, smiling when he sees her cheeks match the color of her hanbok. “Maybe he can’t see it, but I can. The way you look at him.”

It’s a rare occurrence to see the Sinjae’s Princess being so shy, but although they often tend to tease each other, this time Jongin remains silent, until Eunha eventually sighs, seemingly giving in.

She knows there is no use in trying to hide the profound affection she has for Jongdae.

“I doubt he truly needs his eyes to know. Being deprived of one sense can allow the heart to open so much more,” she replies, tone somewhat melancholic.

“He cares about you just as much. Even a fool would see it.”

“I know,” she breathes out, a downhearted smile gracing her lips. “This is why he will not act on it.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“You and I are to be married,” she says, brows twitching as if it were confusing her that he doesn’t understand. “He loves you too much to interfere, knowing the consequences it could have on you. Not as his brother, but as the King.”

Of course. It is so typically Jongdae to think about others, especially Jongin, before himself. He thought both his brother and Eunha were oblivious to the fondness they retain for each other, but it seems he might have been mistaken.

He wouldn’t be surprised to find out they discussed it and decided together to keep it secret for Jongin’s sake.

And had the circumstances been different, Jongin might have felt guilty. But instead, he slightly turns his head away to will the amused smile away and makes sure his composure is back when he begins talking again.

“You will be seventeen soon, right?” he says, with all the nonchalance he can muster.

“In six weeks,” Eunha nods, visibly confused by the random question.

“Did you know this is the age women become lawfully able to take their own decisions in Yangkwang?”

“...I do remember it being a new law you suggested a few months ago.”

She looks like she doesn’t know if she should frown or raise her brows, which in turn has Jongin biting the inside of his cheek to keep the grin from blooming back.

“It was voted and approved quite recently,” he nods instead, finding it easier to look ahead and not at her puzzled expression.

“Really? ...Was that statute proposal sparked by something specific?”

Her tone is beginning to paint itself with suspicion.

Good, Jongin thinks.

“My mother and sister were both forced to wed at seventeen.”

“...I see.”

They keep walking silently for a couple of minutes before Jongin speaks again.

“You know, going through old royal edicts has been quite enlightening.”

“Really? How so?”

It gets harder not to crack, hearing her going along with whatever he says, no matter how random it must seem to her. His stomach is cramping with repressed laughter, stirring the healed, yet still sensitive wound in his abdomen.

“I learned that a soldier will automatically be promoted to the upper rank if he is of assistance in helping to save the King in the event of an attack.”

“That is indeed informative,” Eunha says with polite interest, nearly breaking Jongin’s composure.

His cheeks burn from holding back his smile.

“It is,” he nods, pretending to be contemplating the cherry blossom trees as he continues. “I also happened to find out that any marriage ceremony performed within the kingdom’s lands remains incontestable anywhere else. Be it in other kingdoms, or here, at the palace.”

They’re walking slowly, but not slow enough for him not to notice the way her steps briefly waver, and he once again forces his lips not to curl up.

“Is being cryptic part of a king’s responsibilities, Your Majesty?”

“It might,” Jongin nonchalantly shrugs.

Another few minutes pass, and he knows they’ll soon exit the gardens, so he decides it’s finally time for her to understand what this is all about.

“I plan to leave in a few days,” he begins. “I want to visit some villages to ensure my decrees are being put into effect.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“A couple of months, most likely. The rainy season will begin before my return.”

Eunha offers him a smile as she nods, so he progresses to his next move.

“There are so many places to go, however, that I think I’ll need my brother’s help.”

“Oh… I see.”

He almost feels bad, looking at how disappointed her face is at the simple mention of Jongdae being gone for an indefinite period. But he knows it won’t last long.

“You didn’t get to leave the palace yet, right?”

“Sadly, no. Apart from the lanterns festival, last month.”

“I recall you mentioning that you dislike cold weathers…”

“I do,” Eunha replies, back to being confused by the seemingly random topic jumps.

“I plan on asking my brother to visit some of the southern villages on my behalf,” Jongin continues, finally seeing something light up in her eyes when he glances at her.

It’s quite obvious she doesn’t want to let herself hope Jongin means what she believes he does. But the way her hands are clinging on his arm a bit tighter betrays her.

“I don’t wont to ask you to come in the north with me, but I also wouldn’t want you to stay by yourself while I’m away, so… Would you be kind enough to accompany my brother?”

This time, the spark in her eyes spread through her entire face, a happy blush tinting her cheeks as she bites her bottom lip.

“Of course, if Your Majesty wishes me to do so,” she replies, evidently doing her best not to show her enthusiasm too much.

She utterly fails, however, and Jongin doesn’t wait to return the smile sent his way as they finally step in the inner court.

Slowly, he detaches her hands from his arms, and for a fleeting moment, he brings her against his chest, placing a kiss on top of her head.

The next second, rounded eyes under raised brows are looking at him in curiosity as he steps back.

“I have a lot left to prepare,” he says, earning a confused nod.

He turns around and starts walking away. She hasn’t moved from the spot he left her, so he waits for a couple of steps, before stopping and finally glancing over his shoulder.

“If my betrothed were to be married already when I come back, our union would then be impossible,” he says with a knowing smirk.

It takes a few seconds before her eyes slightly narrow, and a couple more until her lips eventually begin curling up as she finally understands what this was all about.

“What a shame it would be, don’t you think?” he adds with a quick wiggle of his brows.

“...Truly devastating.”

“I’m glad we agree. I’ll leave it to you to inform him.”

And with a final nod, Jongin resumes heading over to his living quarters.

His plan is in motion.

It won’t be easy, and he knows he will have to face many obstacles over the next years, some he won’t be able to even anticipate.

But if he works hard, and keeps his mind focused on his aim, then perhaps, he will make both his father and his mother proud.

Perhaps he will be able to give to the kingdom the monarch they truly deserve.

Perhaps all the people he cares about will have a chance to taste happiness.

And perhaps, then, he will allow himself to be at peace, and seek his heart out.


	15. Epilogue

Drenched in the early morning light, the narrow valley is quiet as he walks.

The snowflakes softly landing on the white blanket covering the ground are almost louder than his steps.

He never gets tired of that sound. It might be his favorite.

Or one of his favorites.

But he hasn’t heard the other one in so long that he sometimes wonders if he even remembers it correctly.

The more time passes, the harder he has to focus to pull it back from the remotest part of his memory.

It always upsets him.

He doesn’t want to forget.

He promised himself he wouldn’t, eight years ago.

The snow is scintillating as far as his eyes can see, pale daylight bouncing back to illuminate him as he steps out of the soft blue shadow cast by the high peak he walks by.

They only settled in the area a couple of weeks ago, but he already loves it. The surrounding mountains are high, summits disappearing behind crowns of foggy clouds and blending in the white sky. It is a nice place to call home, at least for the time being.

Winter will come soon, and they’ll have to seek southerner grounds, where the slopes are less steep, and the smaller preys migrate in search of the vegetation the cold hasn’t killed. The bigger animals will follow, and therefore, so will the tribe.

It won’t be easy, but they’ll manage, and it will be the opportunity to see some of his friends he can only meet in winter. The rest of the year, they only sometimes stumble upon each other during hunts, but it’s a rare occurrence enough for him to anticipate the coldest season.

It has been that way for the past five years.

Contrary to what they believed, they found out two other snow leopard tribes, living deep in the Chinese mountains, one even larger than theirs.

It was a blessing in disguise. At first, it brought many troubles; the same ones his tribe had been dealing with three years prior, when he came back. Leadership issues had nearly ruined the peace his older sister had managed to establish when she became the head of their tribe. But after months of tensions, it had been decided to split everyone into smaller, independent groups of around ten families.

Ultimately, the discovery of those tribes helped to soothe the minds, for it meant their species wouldn’t go extinct. Inbreeding being – thankfully – strictly prohibited, their tribe wouldn’t have lasted more than a couple of generations after his own before this problem arose. They would have eventually died out. The two tribes had given everyone hope.

Some families ended up leaving the nomadic lifestyle to settle down in northern villages in Yangkwang. This had only been possible thanks to a certain king.

One of his closest friends lives there, now, so he visits her, at least once a year. She knows him well enough to give him information that he never allows himself to ask about out loud.

The last time he went, she told him about the recent visit of Her Majesty the Queen.

It has only been two years since her youngest brother abdicated so that she could take his place. His friend had told him how much of a struggle it had been, to make the kingdom accept her as its sovereign. She was a woman, with a daughter, and no husband. She was nothing but the opposite of what Yangkwang’s tradition allowed for its rulers. But the young king had fought hard against the prejudices before passing the power on to her, and he had succeeded.

He had never wanted to wear that crown, anyway.

After that, it didn’t take long before everyone realized Seohyun deserved the faith and trust the erstwhile King had asked for them to have in her. And with Jongdae by her side as both the Royal secretary and her personal advisor, they had won the kingdom’s heart.

But before he abdicated, the young King had done many things.

From what his friend told him, all the hybrid-slave markets had been closed and forbidden quickly after he ascended the throne. He had created a social status for hybrids as well, not only allowing them to be paid but also to work in the field they wanted. They were able to be hired, but never owned. And as a consequence, some villages throughout the kingdom had slowly became inhabited by hybrids only, species peacefully living with each other.

Of course, his brother could have told him all this, still being the one who visits Yangkwang’s northern villages the most out of all their siblings. But over the past eight years, he doesn’t think he heard the older mention the royal family more than a handful of times. And never directly to him.

It’s all right, though. He knows it has nothing to do with a presumed grudge he could still be holding. He has had enough proofs over time to be sure the older left all this in the past.

Just as the thought crosses his mind, a cold breeze hits his face, carrying in its path the happy laughter of his nephews.  They’re far away, but he can still hear the soft padding of their feet, snow crushing under their boots as they run after something else. Something smaller that bounces around, trying to escape.

The smile blooms on his face without him noticing it.

They have started to teach the two boys how to hunt, last spring. But at three and four years old, they’re still at the age where a bunny is more entertaining to watch and play with than to kill and cook.

They’ll learn, though. They’ll have to. Not only his brother’s sons but his older sister’s newborn daughter too, as well as all the children that will be born in the future.

Being split into smaller groups means fewer mouths to feed, but it also entails fewer hunters per group. He can still remember the agonizingly long seasons, when only he, the twins, and their youngest sister had been feeding the entire pack composed of nine families.

Things are better now that the youngests have grown up and that their group has been joined by a few people coming from one of the Chinese tribes.

It was hard to adjust and live with strangers, but the need to survive had brought them all together, eventually.

In more ways than just hunting, as evidenced by the fact that all his siblings are now mated.

Even his youngest sister found a boy she loves enough to want to tie herself to. He didn’t really like the kid, at first. He was way too scrawny, not capable and hardworking enough. But he had to come to term with it, after she cornered him in a cave during a hunt, and _growled_ at him, threatening to never speak to him again if he didn’t stop trying to scare the boy away.

She was only fifteen, back then, but he realized how strong she had become. She was willing to stand up to him for what she wanted, and that was all it took to reassure him, ultimately, even though it stung to see she didn’t need him anymore.

They had always had a special bond since she was born. And contrary to their brother, she never misses a chance to mention _him_. Although she always makes a point to use his monarch’s name.

He thinks she likes seeing his nose scrunch up when he hears it.

He doesn’t like that name.

It doesn’t fit.

And it doesn’t taste as soft on his tongue as when he pronounces _his_ real one under his breath, whenever he is alone and tries to carve memories of _him_ deeper in his mind, just to make sure he doesn’t forget.

It’s not a bad name, of course. He suspects Seohyun and Jongdae to have helped to find it. From what the older Prince told him once, _he_ has always been terrible at naming things.

Not always, though.

There is at least one exception.

Which is why himself goes by a new name as well, now.

It happened a few months after he came back to the tribe.

He still remembers how so many of his people disapproved, arguing that he was disavowing his origins. It’s usually forbidden, but the new one he wanted to take had an even worse connotation in their mind.

His family, however, had fully supported him. Especially his brother and youngest sister, who prepared the ceremony uncaring of the general opinion.

To everyone’s surprise but his own, Azjhekaala did bless that name. And the next morning, his father inked his skin, right above his peacefully beating heart.

To this day, Kyungsoo is still the only one knowing the meaning of his tattoo. No one has ever been able to figure out what the triangle-shaped symbol he designed represents.

It’s not their fault.

None of them has seen the way that Japanese painted fern hovered over the lone crocus, protecting it from the elements. But even if they had, they’ll never know _who_ that highly stylized leaf symbolizes, or why he asked his father to place the tattoo specifically there.

It’s not for anyone but him to know.

No one needs to understand why Kyungsoo sometimes presses his palm against the symbol, firmly enough until he feels his heartbeat passing through the ink. No one needs to know it helps to keep him grounded, like tangible evidence that it had been all real. That everything he felt, so long ago, hadn’t been just a product of his imagination.

That he has a reason to keep waiting, a reason to trust _him_.

Trust had never been something that came easily to him. And he had been the first one to be surprised when he had found himself willing to believe the Crown Prince’s words. There was something in those dark eyes. Something broken, but waiting, hoping, almost begging to be mended.

It had taken some time for Kyungsoo to recognize just why he had let himself lower his guard, why he suddenly craved seeing that soft, silly smile directed at him, or why he felt at peace under the weight of _his_ warm gaze.

It had taken even longer to admit it to himself because suddenly, the idea of belonging to someone had lost its negative meaning. And acknowledging this went against every single belief he had stood for, during his entire life.

As much as he had always cared for his family and his people, Kyungsoo had found himself in a similar, yet completely different situation.

When common sense would’ve wanted him to despise the Crown Prince, there was always something that made him care. Something that always got him upset at himself, because every now and then, for a few fleeting seconds, he would forget about the people waiting for him, forget that he wasn’t supposed to be here. Forget that he shouldn’t have been impatient to see that face again, or eager to hear that voice.

He would even forget why there was no reason for him to dislike Sinjae’s Princess. But he did, although she had never been anything but polite with him, trying to converse whenever the Crown Prince wasn’t around, and they would stumble upon each other.

She was pretty, kind and witty. And it bothered him to no end. He might have secretly been a little too pleased the day he heard she had gotten married to Prince Jongdae, for that was another reassurance that he could keep having faith in that promise he had been given.

 

He can’t really pinpoint when it happened, if it was a sudden thing or a slow process, but somewhere along the way, the lines had gotten blurred.

He had found himself no longer chained by iron, but bounded, somehow, by soft gazes and timid grins.

Unable to stay away. Always coming back.

The realization that something deep within his chest had changed, however, came abruptly. It hit him with the force of an avalanche, rattling him down to the core and stealing his breath away.

His hand was still dotted with red splashes, the rough surface of the cane against his palm haunting his thoughts. He was barely even feeling the pain in his back, too focused on the crimson soaking the hanbok in front of him.

He knew what lay under the fabric. He was the one who caused it. Not only by holding that cane but by letting anger consume him and cloud his judgment, making him forget why he did trust the Crown Prince.

 _He_ had refused to punish him. And yet, Kyungsoo complied.

He hadn’t been surprised to be thrown in a cell, the next day. And he didn’t even care. Not only because he deserved it, but because a specific memory of the previous morning was still suffocating him, preventing anything else to enter his mind.

The moment he realized he cared more than he thought, and way more than he ever should have. Even eight years later, it remains one of the most vivid images, irrevocably carved in his mind.

Kyungsoo could handle being roughly treated, imprisoned and tied up, starved or beaten down. But the look in the Crown Prince’s eyes when he had pushed him away, the hurt glistening in his unshed tears, the waver in his voice as he looked at Kyungsoo…

This had felt like his insides were ripped out by his own hand, crushed between sharp claws a little more with each of _his_ words.

And then things had spiraled down, and before he was able to fully grasp the rapidly unfolding events, he had been back in the Wild North. And he had to watch _him_ ride away, with the lingering taste of a promise whispered against his lips.

Sending his brother after the Crown Prince was a risk. The aversion the older had for the man who, in his mind, had kept Kyungsoo captive, was evident. But he needed to know _he_ would be all right.

He remembers how powerless he felt when his brother left. And yet, it had been nothing compared to the crushing guilt that had drawn him when the older came back and relayed what had taken place both at the palace and in that deserted village.

Kyungsoo hadn’t been there.

The Crown Prince needed him, he had come to save him, _again_ , and Kyungsoo had not been there.

He was the only one the younger had truly cried in front of about his mother, and Kyungsoo hadn’t been here to hold him after his father passed away as well.

Back then, he had still been battling to survive the venom raging inside his body. But sometimes, even now, he wonders. Had he been healthy, or felt a little better, despite the troubles threatening his family within the tribe, he cannot be sure he wouldn’t have run right back to be by _his_ side.

Kyungsoo had come home, but somehow, he had been left with the feeling of missing a piece of himself.

The Crown Prince had crawled under his skin, engraved himself deep in his chest, bringing pain and solace all at once. Just like the tattoo above his heart.

Kyungsoo keeps _him_ there, so that he never forgets he is waiting for the shard of his own heart to be returned.

 

He has many things to prepare for their next hunt, he will be busy for a few days before they leave.

So he takes a moment to himself, halting his steps and closing his eyes to enjoy the peace and quiet.

The morning breeze caresses his skin as he stands still. He can feel every single snowflake landing on him, melting in little pearly drops and trickling down.

His nephews are still giggling, somewhere east, mimicking the bunny’s jumps.

A mated pair of foxes is drinking in a stream, northward, playfully nipping at each other every now and then.

A horse is trotting, coming from the south, its hooves delicately sinking in the snow as it slows down.

Kyungsoo remains immobile, breathing in the chilly air, tasting the snow on his lips.

He still doesn’t move when he feels it.

The weight of the gaze he has missed for the last eight years.

Blazing and piercing. Gentle and tender. Silent, and always on him.

It used to calm him.

Right now, it makes Kyungsoo’s heart skip a beat.

The wind changes direction, and a gust brushes over him, ruffling the feathers tied in his hair.

And he smells it.

Fresh and earthy. Lemongrass and leather. Soft, warm, and comforting.

Mixed with his own, it used to soothe him.

Right now, it’s too lonely, and it makes Kyungsoo’s insides stir.

Slowly, his eyelids flicker open. He turns around.

And he sees it.

The face that has never left his mind.

Dark eyes and straight nose. Plump lips and defined jaw.

It’s adorned with an extensive, slightly jagged burn scar on its right side, painting lighter patches on the golden skin. It covers part of his scalp, as well, where a large chunk of black hair is missing, back to above the ear.

But it’s perfect regardless.

And it steals Kyungsoo’s breath away.

Jongin is still looking at him as he dismounts the stallion, gaze intense and unwavering when his boots touch the ground, uphill.

Kyungsoo stares back, waiting.

There are snowflakes in his dark hair, like an ice crystal crown the mountains would’ve graced him with, specifically for this moment.

As if Azjhekaala Herself were welcoming him.

He looks everything like the Crown Prince he never wanted to be. Like the King he never knew reigned over Kyungsoo’s heart.

He had always been too oblivious to see it.

Kyungsoo takes a step forward, then another one.

There are too many emotions dancing in those beautiful eyes as Jongin starts walking as well.

 

_One day, I’ll come back for you…_

_I’ll find you again… I promise._

 

Their eyes are still locked when they unhurriedly meet in the middle, stopping in front of each other.

The valley and mountains fall silent.

“I found you…” Jongin eventually whispers.

His deep voice sends a shiver down Kyungsoo’s spine, and slowly, he nods, reveling in the quietude enveloping his heart.

His movements are calm as he takes hold of the younger’s hand, and just as measured when he brings it up and presses Jongin’s wrist against his neck.

Kyungsoo watches as the corners of his mouth twitch, letting the warmth spread in his entire body.

Leisurely, Jongin extends his fingers, lightly grazing Kyungsoo’s nape through his hair.

“I’m sorry it took so long.”

Instantly, Kyungsoo shakes his head, his own mouth imperceptibly curving up.

“It’s all right,” he replies in a murmur, heart swelling when he feels Jongin’s pulse jolt against his neck at the sound of his voice.

And it is.

Because Jongin might be selfish and stubborn, even rude and arrogant at times.

But he is also kind and loyal, caring and genuine.

And as Kyungsoo pulls him closer, he forgets about the world around.

As their chests collide and their lips meet, nothing matters more than this moment.

He hadn’t minded waiting.

Because Jongin has always been a lot of things. But most of all, he is trustworthy.

And he always, _always_ keeps his promises.

 

•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure many people made it here, but if you’re reading this… Hi again?  
> Thank you for giving this fic a chance!  
> I know it could've been better, but please don’t be too harsh if you decide to leave a comment (ó﹏ò).
> 
> Dear prompter, thank you as well for submitting this prompt! This was probably nothing like what you expected, but I hope I didn’t disappoint you too much. I really tried.
> 
> Last but not least, a special thank you for baby T who tried her best to keep me sane during the last months. This was not an easy task.
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Minty_Pixie), if you wanna talk or just say hi!
> 
> Thank you again for reading this story <3
> 
> ~Pixie~


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